


Some Kind of Resolution

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Rewritten in Time [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crushes, Denial of Feelings, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Plotting, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 106,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort is back and after some sort of "weapon," the Ministry has put its head in the sand, and there is a massive invasion of the Ministry of Magic to coordinate. There is no time for Harry to serve detentions daily, so Draco hopes he does a lot less screaming at Umbridge this time around. Yet, with time travel, one never knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Demented Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Fifth Year! *throws confetti* Finally.
> 
> So, the usual, this is book five of the series, Rewritten in Time. Be advised, it’d be best to begin at the start (Regrets Collect Like Old Friends) and go from there. 
> 
> This story is also complete. I will try to post daily, or at least every other day as I finish the final edits on each chapter. 
> 
> Here ends author’s note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for a summery of what has occurred since I started this. So, here goes (I suck at summaries):
> 
> 1\. Draco decides to go back in time due to the fact his family is in shambles and Voldemort is, well, a tyrant. He befriends Harry and Hermione, sorts into Gryffindor, and later throws smelly water to expunge Voldemort from the back of Quirrell's head. Draco and Harry also discover the Chamber of Secrets and Harry befriends and names the snake. Narcissa spends the year plotting how to bring the Black Family back into power via the American branch. Draco also tells Harry he's a time traveler and Harry laughs. 
> 
> 2\. With the aid of Atlanta, Draco and Harry get their paws on the Diary of Ill Intent, then loose it when it eats Atlanta and sends her back in time to 1943, which turns her into Calliope Riddle (see Shattered for more details). Ginny gets hold of the Diary of Ill Intent, writes in it, and becomes Zombie Ginny who uses the memory of snake to Petrify kids as the snake is loyal to Harry. While the boys notice something going on, they fail to actually figure anything out till Diary Riddle steals Ginny off into the Chamber of Secrets. Meanwhile, Narcissa is still plotting, Altair Black (Atlanta's father) is also plotting, but not for the good of the Black Family but rather in Voldemort's name with Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa is informed if she doesn't want Voldemort to win at the end of the day, she should put her plotting somewhere far away from Altair Black. So, she decides to look into Sirius, as she's know she wasn't a Death Eater. Hermione figure out Draco's a time traveller. Harry gets a pen pal after the trio discover a batch of books in the Chamber of Secrets written by Slytherin, who was a Muggleborn. Draco also reads about the theory of time travel and finds out about fixed points. 
> 
> 3\. Everyone important (save Narcissa) finds out Draco's a time traveller. The group also finds out about Tom Riddle the Not Ghost, who is also Harry's pen pal who helped him publish the journals the trio found. 
> 
> 4\. Harry competes in the Triwizard championship. He's got the advantage because Draco knows what's coming, but is still unable to save Cedric. Group tries to figure out the fixed points. Luna alludes to being Time, but only Harry believes it. Draco begins to have romantic feelings towards Hermione. Regulus "returns from the dead." He wasn't actually dead, but time-locked. (See Over the Rainbow for more details). Tom spends most of the year battling Skeeter, but ultimately fails when Fudge steps in, seeking the "truth" about Harry Potter.
> 
> Summary of Shattered: Atlanta S. Black is sent back to 1943 by the Diary of Ill Intent, which was charmed due to her time travel to cause her to time travel. While in 1943, she lands on top of Tom Riddle, who after a series of events decides having her dying loyalty is useful and wipes her mind and creates the sister he wants: Calliope Riddle. After she discovers his plans to make multiple horcruxes, he crucios her till he jars her head and sets free Atlanta Black. He tries to fix the damage, but doesn't. In the summer of 1944, she vanishes after an argument. Tom never finds her. 
> 
> Summary of Over the Rainbow: Atlanta D. Black is rocketed back in time on accident during Draco's initial time travel. She tries to change things, but ultimately fails as most things play out as they did before. She does alter a few things: Snape's hair, the creation of Tom Riddle the Not Ghost, Regulus LIVES, and she found a horcrux-- alerting Dumbledore early on to what the objects might be in the future.

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

A drowsy silence settled over the neighborhood as the hottest day of the summer drew to a close. Tom Riddle surveyed the yellow, crunchy lawns, which made everyone scowl and complain about the lack of rain and the ban on watering. There wasn’t a soul outside (likely due to lack of green grass) and every single window of every single house Tom saw from his vantage point was thrown open in hopes of catching the nonexistent breeze. 

Air conditioning clearly hadn’t made it to the homes of Little Wheeling. Addy Black, Tom’s long dead friend and associate, had asked the estate agent if any of the flats when they looked so long ago came with air conditioning and the agent had given her an odd look. And not because he was a Muggle and she’d misspoken. No, it turned out air conditioning was an American thing.

It still must be a very American thing seventeen years later as no one on Privet Drive had it. 

“This stinks,” Harry Potter complained. “I’m going to die from overheating, not at the end of a wand.”

Tom cast the messy haired boy a dark look and went to gazing out the window. Due to Tom’s genetic makeup (he wasn’t alive, yet not dead), he didn’t feel the oppressive heat. He simply witnessed it and had to make do with his memories of overly warm days in a London orphanage.  

“You know, someone might see you,” Harry pointed out, glancing up from the newspaper he was reading. 

“I doubt it,” Tom murmured. “The usual hobbies of the housewives have fallen on the wayside in this heat. Also, I doubt anyone will be able to see anything through these bars on your window. Why are there bars on your window?”

“They appeared after second year,” Harry answered, looking back at the paper. “They were worried I’d make a break for it out the window.”

Harry snorted, throwing the paper aside. Tom glared at the offending object. The headline wasn’t anything having to do with Harry, Voldemort, or how bonkers old age had rendered Dumbledore, but Tom knew these stories were hidden within the depths paper. Harry had been reading only the headlines, then throwing the paper aside till one morning Tom pointed out he needed to read the whole paper to get what the enemy was saying. 

“The enemy?” Harry had questioned. 

“The Ministry of Magic. They are not with you, they are against you. Fudge will do whatever he can to remain in power. He allowed Skeeter to lay the seeds and now others watering the garden. He’s playing a complicated game that will blow up in his face. As you well know, Marv— as you fondly call him— will not be silent forever.”

Harry had smiled at Tom, shaking his head. He read the paper cover to cover every day now. (Which allowed Tom as well to read it over his shoulder, as Tom was unable to touch anything due to his ghost like state— well, other than Harry and things imbued with Addy’s magic, like his trusty wooden block.)

“So, anything?” Tom inquired, floating away from the window and hovering above the bed where Harry was sprawled.  

“No. Not really. What happens this year again?”

Harry tended to forget the details of what might occur in the coming school year. His best friend Draco Malfoy was a time traveler and had told them all the major points at the start of Harry’s fourth year. While nothing was guaranteed to happen, they were able to guess out which events would likely more no matter what changes they tried to achieve. 

Time was a mad lady in a box and she liked to fix some events. It could be something major or something inconsequential— such as Harry’s obsession with following spiders second year or Draco’s urge to fork over the broom Harry got for the holidays from an unknown third year to McGongall to check curses even though Draco knew there was nothing wrong with the broom. 

Tom hated time travel. 

“You end your summer by being attacked by dementors,” Tom reminded the green-eyed boy. 

“Huh? How do dementors get to Little Wheeling? Voldemort?”

Tom sighed, giving Harry a look. “No. Likely, someone in the Ministry wishes to prove the stories in _The_ _Prophet_ true. Though, this time the first underage magic complaint was expunged from your record, so there will be no need for a hearing, unless Fudge decides it’d be best to make an example of you and throw you out of school.”

“Why dementors?”

“Why not? Muggles can’t see them and you are the only wizard in the area. There would be no way to prove what you saw when you cast the charm to protect yourself.” 

Harry sighed. “This is why I need you.”

“Pardon?” Tom asked. 

“You’re my brain, I’m your heart,” Harry replied, rolling off the bed. 

Something lodged itself into Tom’s throat and felt warm, which was odd as Tom didn’t feel temperatures due to his non-human being state. 

“I’m going to go out for a walk,” Harry proclaimed. “I can’t stand to be in here any longer. God, I can’t wait till we can go to Sirius’ house. Do wizards have that air conditioning you were talking about? It usually doesn’t get this hot, so we don’t usually need it.” 

“Wizards use cooling charms and from what Addy told me about air conditioning, it works in a similar manner. Remember the block.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Do you not wish me to?” Tom asked, feeling something sink in his chest. 

“I can’t talk to you outside,” Harry said, frowning.

Tom had been cooped up in Harry’s messy, cramped bedroom for the past two weeks. Then again, so had Harry due to doing his best to avoid his relatives. Tom observed the relatives were fearful of Harry and ignored him, as Tom figured they would, so keeping to the room wasn’t necessarily needed.  

Tom was glad he’d returned to the Durlsey’s with Harry even if he’d been trapped in a micro sized bedroom for two weeks. Harry wasn’t dealing with the events of the end of the year well. Tom woke Harry nightly from nightmares featuring a dying Cedric Diggory and a vicious Lord Voldemort. At least with Tom around, there was someone to wake, comfort Harry, keep him company during the day, and offer a distraction from his circling thoughts. 

Harry blamed himself for Diggory’s death and nothing was ever going to change his mind. 

“Where did your cousin go tonight?”

“He told Aunt Petunia he was going to tea at the Polkisses’,” Harry snorted.

Harry’s aunt and uncle were astonishingly stupid about their own son, Dudley (horrid name), and swallowed all his dim-witted lies about having tea at various members of his gang (they weren’t friends) each night of the summer holiday. Harry and Tom both knew perfectly well what Dudley and his dimwitted cronies were doing each evening, and it was nothing good. 

“He’s likely beating up some kid who had the misfortune of crossing his path,” Harry muttered. “If you’ll be quiet, I’ll take you to the park with me. I’m just going down the street. Not too far.”

“I’m not worried about you being alone at the park,” Tom bit out. 

Harry was always watched. Harry hadn’t noticed, but Tom had. A strange array of people were clearly watching the house and following after Harry wherever he went. 

Tom hadn’t mentioned this to Harry, fearing he’d start irrationally shouting. 

“You coming or not?” Harry snapped.

“I’ll stay here,” Tom snapped right back.

With a slam of the door, Harry was gone and Tom was left on his own in the room. 

“Bloody hell,” Tom muttered, crossing his arms across his chest and moodily staring out the window. 

* * *

“HE DID WHAT?”

“Draco, you do not need to shout.”

“What are you looking at in there? They don’t print anything worth while these days,” Sirius Black complained, stabbing his plate of eggs with his fork. 

“Harry was attacked by dementors,” Draco reported, folding the paper so the story about the Unstable-Attention-Hungry-Boy appeared front and center.

“He what?” Sirius asked, eyes going impossibly wide in his thin face. 

“And they think he’s lying?” Narcissa demanded, her shrewd eyes scanning the paper. 

“Of course they do,” Draco grumbled as Sirius snatched the paper up. “Fudge has spent all summer telling the public Harry’s an attention hungry liar. And what better way to prove your point than to have Harry cast magic in front of a Muggle?!”

Narcissa pressed her lips together and swept out of the room. Sirius stared at the paper, a dumbfounded look on his face till he was sure Draco’s mother was out of earshot. The look dropped off Sirius’ face and Draco was pinned with stormy grey eyes. 

“This happened last time,” Sirius stated flatly.

Draco nodded. “Potter got off. Last time around, Father hadn’t cleared the damage Dobby did. Potter got in trouble for before second year, if I remember the papers correctly. Levitation charm performed in front of his family and their guests.”

“It was all over the papers?”

Draco nodded. “Yes. Anything that painted either Harry or Dumbledore in an unfavorable light was published that summer.”

Sirius pressed his lips together, looking alarmingly like Narcissa. 

“Potter had a full trial.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and his mouth dropped open. 

“Fudge tried his best to get Potter thrown out of school. It didn’t work,” Draco reminded Sirius. “I doubt Harry’ll be thrown out. Technically this is his first offense, so unless Fudge does something drastic law changing, it’s just a warning.”

“Why wasn’t I informed my godson performed magic?” Sirius asked.

Draco’s mouth dropped open. 

“And if there were really dementors in Little Wheeling, why didn’t someone tell me? The Order should have been alerted. As you well know they weren’t.” 

Unlike most people Draco’s age, he was privy to exactly what the Order of the Phoenix was up to, thanks to Sirius. Narcissa had no clue her cousin was telling Draco things that he ought not to be told due to his age, but Sirius figured Draco already knew most of it and he was actually older than he appeared thanks to time travel. 

The Order didn’t know much. Voldemort was MIA. So far, it appeared as if Fudge was right and Dumbledore and Harry were mental. The only way they knew for sure the Insane Lord was up and about was thanks to Snape and Atlanta Lupin, who had gone from cool, calm, and collected to a jumpy bundle of nerves. She startled at nothing and everything— even though she had spent most of the summer locked away in her room. 

“Dumbledore better be here shortly.”

The doorbell rang.

“Speak and he shall appear,” Draco snarked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you know the four-one-one.”

Sirius stood up and swept out of the room as Draco shouted, “We still do not say that!” 

* * *

It was almost another week before Harry was brought to Grimmauld Place. Draco hadn’t even been aware Harry was arriving till he appeared at breakfast to find Harry moodily sitting at the table while Dobby attempted to tempt him with various breakfast foods. 

“Harry, when did you arrive?”

The green eyes moved from Dobby to Draco. “Dead of the night. Flew in with a bunch of Order members.” 

Draco nodded. “I hear you had some minor excitement.”

Harry scowled. 

“I take it you’ve been properly scolded by Tom?”

Harry stabbed his empty plate with his fork. 

“Harry Potter, sir, you needs food.”

Harry cast his eyes back towards Dobby, who held a huge tray laden down with food. Harry grabbed a pastry and set it on his plate, stabbing it with his fork. Draco took his seat at the table and Dobby cracked away. A moment later, Draco’s breakfast appeared on his formerly empty plate. 

“This happened to Potter, didn’t it?”

“Correct.”

Harry cursed rather darkly.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to go to trial.”

“Trial?”

“Yes. Fudge changed the rules and made Potter appear before Wizmogot.”

Harry went a little green. 

“Hopefully, there is someone around to talk him out of it, since this is technically your first offence and you were defending yourself and your cousin from dementors,” Draco pointed out. 

“I shoulda listened to Tom,” Harry griped, stabbing the pastry again with his fork. 

“Where is the Not Ghost?”

“I threw him through the fire this morning,” Harry said. 

“I hope you dialed before,” Sirius muttered entering the dining room. “While I’m no fan of Tom, he’s kind of useful at times.”

Harry scowled. “I dialed.”

“Brilliant. With any luck, he’ll stay there till we need his big brain,” Sirius said, grabbing the jug of coffee that had appeared at the table at some point. 

Harry grumbled under his breath. 

“I think Tom and Harry are fighting,” Draco loudly whispered. 

“Not exactly hard to believe,” Sirius muttered. 

Harry noisily stabbed his pastry once more, scowling at Sirius and Draco.

 


	2. Whispers from the Past

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Later that day, Draco found Harry sulking in the library. He was seated in the reading nook where Tom and Harry were often found the summer before, only now Harry was lacking his ghostly companion. Swallowing thickly, Draco made his way across the open space to where Harry was slumped in an expensively upholstered armchair. 

“If you ask me how I am or anything like that, I will hit you,” Harry threatened. 

“Well, you can always bottle your feelings up and later explode, if you wish,” Draco suggested lightly, taking the seat across from Harry. 

Draco had no urge to discuss why Harry was a grump. He was simply worried Harry was going to revert into Potter— an angst ridden, anger exploding idiot. 

Harry darkly glared at Draco. 

“How about I tell you everything I know about the Order of the Phoenix?”

“Order of the what?”

Draco smirked. “Didn’t read what was in store for you this year?”

Harry blushed.

Draco sighed, sitting back in the chair and allowing his long legs to flop out. “Alright, let me tell you about— wait, I could show you!”

Draco sat straight in his seat, the idea hitting him out of nowhere. 

“Show me?”

“My memories!” Draco exclaimed. “I didn’t have a Pensive bowl before, I still technically don’t, but I found one in the attic.”

“What were you doing in the attic?” Harry asked, his sulky and grumpy attitude crumbling away. “You don’t seem like an attic person.”

“I’m not,” Draco agreed. “I was bored and barred from being seen during the meetings.”

“What meetings?”

“Of the Order of the Phoenix,” Draco said. “Sirius allowed Dumbledore’s resistance group, or the answer to the Death Munchers, to meet here. This house is the best protected building on the planet, after Park Quad.”

Harry frowned. “And your mother is okay with allowing…a resistance movement to hold meetings in her house?”

“In her kitchen,” Draco corrected. “They are confined to the kitchen and it’s not actually her choice. Sirius is head of the family and this is his home. She’s just staying here. Sirius wanted the group to meet here, due to the safety measures on the house to keep its location a secret, so they meet in the kitchen to appease Mother. They use the back door instead of the front. So, they aren’t parading through here at all hours and only really bother Dobby, who isn’t all that bothered by extra mouths to feed. It’s simply when they are in the house, Mother insists I, and now yourself, remain upstairs. During one of their longer meetings, I decided to snoop through the attic as Regulus told me there was a treasure trove up there.”

“What’d you find?”

“A bunch of stuff that will likely blow us up,” Draco admitted. “A few rather valuable magical artifacts, such as the Pensive bowl.” 

“What’s it do?”

Harry looked quite interested, his sulky and grumpy attitude forgotten. His eyes were alight and he looked like the boy Draco had met that fateful day in robe shop. 

“I’ll show you in a second,” Draco assured. “There’s a branch of magic that focuses on the mind. It’s advanced magic and most wizards don’t bother to learn it— mostly due to the fact it’s hard.”

“You learned it?”

Draco repressed a shudder. “Yes. Because I had to.”

Harry frowned. “Does Snape know how to do it?”

“Yes. Never look straight into his eyes, or he will likely see the thoughts that are currently on your mind. When he tries to do it, you do not feel an intrusion. Others, you would, but he’s really good.”

“It’s why he makes such a good spy, right?” Harry quietly asked.

Draco nodded.

“So, after you learn the art of blocking your mind and seeing thoughts— it’s not mind reading no matter how much you want to say it is— you can also remove thoughts and revisit them. I’ve never done it before, mostly because Pensive bowls are rare,” Draco explained. “To make one, a wizard must be very well versed in ruins and the Mind Arts. There aren’t many who are versed in both, so the bowls that are around are very expensive as well as rare.”

Harry nodded, looking a bit pensive and didn’t ask the question Draco thought he would ask. 

“You’ve seen one?”

Harry looked mollified. “In Dumbledore’s office last year when I was in there after my scar hurt during Divination. I didn’t know what it was.” 

Draco nodded. “And you happen to stick your head in it?”

Harry looked even more embarrassed. 

“Well, then I guess you’ll know what to do and I’ll not have to explain. Let’s head up to the attic. I left the bowl up there. No one in the family currently has use for one.”

“You mean, your family doesn’t know how to block their minds from intrusion?”

“Regulus and Sirius have the basics, but they only know how to weakly block intrusion. Mother is a society witch and believed to be too weak minded to be taught the skill.”

Harry looked outraged. 

“I know she’s not weak minded,” Draco assured Harry. “I do not agree with that thinking at all. I’m positive she shields her mind with natural talent, but as I was saying, no one has use for the Pensive bowl.”

“Can anyone remove memories?” Harry inquired as he stood to follow Draco out of the library. 

“No. It requires great concentration and can be dangerous,” Draco admitted. “I’ve read the theory and know how to do it, I only had no use to take any memory out before now. Or anywhere to put one.” 

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Harry said, trailing after Draco up the stairs. 

“I won’t,” Draco assured Harry over his shoulder as they climbed upwards. “I know exactly what I want to show you. Well, after I tell you what Sirius has told me about what the Order is doing.” 

The attic was dusty, but the windows in the roof allowed the weak afternoon sunlight to brighten the room up enough they didn’t need to light any candles. This was good due to the fact the attic wasn’t as cool as the rest of the house due to the lack of cooling charms, so it was uncomfortable in the dusty, large, junk filled room without the added heat from the candles. 

“This is a hoarders dream,” Harry muttered, stepping around a large purple stain on the floor. He eyed it for a moment before looking at the shelf next to it filled with odd shaped bottles of potions left over from the days Cassiopeia Black experimentation with potions. 

“Hoarder’s dream?” Draco asked, pausing as Harry cocked his head to stare at one of the bottles that had likely made the purple stain. 

“Yeah. Hoarders like junk. This room is filled with lots of junk,” Harry explained, finally turning his attention from the shelf and back to Draco. “It’s still cooler up here than it was in the Dursley’s house.”

“Muggles don’t have something like cooling charms?”

“Not in houses,” Harry grumbled. “Tom told me they do in America, just not here for some reason.”

Draco snorted. 

After winding their way through the various stacks of things, they found the area Draco had left the Pensive bowl. It was sitting on the ground, mostly because it was so heavy. 

“Wow,” Harry breathed, stepping around Draco to circle the bowl. 

“What?”

“That’s bigger than the one in Dumbledore’s office,” Harry commented. He sat down near the edge of the large bowl and peered inside. “It’s empty.”

“Of course. There’s no memories in there. I assume Dumbledore’s has something in it always,” Draco said, sitting down opposite Harry. “He’s rather old and no doubt has a rather crowded mind.”

Harry snorted his agreement. 

“It also might be why he’s kind of batty,” Draco muttered under his breath. “So, Order of the Phoenix. It was around during the first war. Your parents were members, as were Sirius and Remus. They were pretty much on their own fighting off the Deranged One, as the Ministry was…well, you know.”

“Useless?”

“Tragically. Anyway, after the Dark Lord went bye-bye, the group broke up. But, since the Dark One has returned, Dumbledore started it back up,” Draco explained, Harry nodding to show he was listening attentively. “They’ve been trying to recruit new members, getting together the old, still alive members, and that sort of thing.”

“Do they know what Marv’s up to?”

Draco nodded. “Nope, he’s keeping quiet, as you no doubt noticed.”

Harry let out a dervish snort. 

“However, Dumbledore believes he’ll go after the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?”

“The one that’s about you and him,” Draco said. “I don’t know what’s in it, as during Potter’s fifth year when tasked with getting the prophecy for the Deranged Snake, my father failed.”

Harry blinked. “Failed?”

“Yes. Father was captured at the Ministry in the Death Chamber. I do not know what that is, but that was where Father and his fellow Death Idiots were captured. Only Bellatrix managed to escape after killing Sirius.”

Harry’s face went stark white.

“He cannot die, Draco.”

“No, I quite agree.”

Harry looked relieved. 

“Sirius has filled me in on the meetings and the group is currently staking out day and night the corridor that leads to wherever in the Ministry the prophecies are kept. Now, what I want to show you…I’ve thought about this often, though I cannot remember why Potter went to the Ministry passed he wanted to save someone the night my Father was arrested. However, I do remember Potter shouted a bunch of gibberish at Snape. So, we’ll view the memory, which will be perfect rendering of what happened even if I cannot clearly remember what happened.”

“Why?”

“I’ve no idea. It’s just how it works. Your brain records things perfectly, just doesn’t allow you to remember everything.”

“Stupid brain.”

“Quite. Now, be quiet whilst I do this. If I do it wrong, I might damage the memory or myself.”

Looking rather grave, Harry nodded.

Draco closed his eyes, drawing his wand out of his pocket.

“WAIT!”

Draco startled, dropping his wand, and almost falling over backwards. 

“What did I tell you about being quiet?”

“You can’t do magic,” Harry hissed. “You’re underaged!”

Draco sighed. “Harry, you are in a very, very magical house. The Ministry cannot tell if you do magic here anymore than they can if you are at Hogwarts. The only reason you got in trouble both times— remember the first time was because of Dobby— is due to the fact you are the ONLY wizard in that area. They cannot tell who casts the magic, remember?”

“So what stops you from doing magic during the summer?”

“The wrath of my mother,” Draco honestly said. “However, I doubt she’ll realize if I do this, as it’s not noticeable. Now be quiet.”

Harry nodded and Draco closed his eyes once more. He pressed his wand to his temple and concentrated hard on the memory he wanted to show Harry. He’d been thinking about it ever since Sirius had confirmed the Order was protecting the prophecy and Voldemort was likely going after it. The major fixed point of the year was whatever transpired at the Ministry, as whatever happened to Potter in the summer always occured to Harry one way or the other.

Draco only needed to figure out the finer points of what went right and wrong. 

Pulling the memory out, he gasp, feeling it leave his mind. It was an odd sensation. He still remembered the event, but it was even more foggy than it’d been during the past week he’d been trying to remember what had exactly happened in Umbridge’s office on the afternoon Potter ran off to the Ministry. 

Opening his eyes, Draco saw a silvery wisp attached to his wand tip. He guided it to the bowl with Harry’s bright green eyes watching with a look of utter fascination on his face. Even though it was one memory, it filled the large bowl with a silvery liquid. Harry’s emerald eyes lifted from the bowl to Draco’s grey ones.

“Dive on in,” Draco said, waving at the bowl.

Harry headed on into the memory. It was clear he’d stuck his head into a Pensive before. Shaking his own head, Draco followed. 

“This is so surreal,” Harry proclaimed the moment Draco landed next to him in the memory. “Is that what I look like?”

Draco stared at Potter, who was standing between Umbridge’s desk and the fireplace. The rest of the motley group the Slytherins had “apprehended” were all attempting to escape their holds. It was truly surreal to stare at all the people Draco was now either friends or sort of friends with being held hostage by people he no longer had any contact with. The memory version of himself was seated in the window tossing Harry’s wand up and down, while Bulstrode pinned Granger against the wall with more force than needed. 

Draco’s blood boiled, even though it was Granger and not Hermione being pinned to the stone wall. 

By the time Draco had arrived in the memory, Umbridge was questioning Potter on what he had been doing with his head in her fireplace. 

“Is my hair that bad?” Harry asked, still staring at himself and not listening or paying attention to what was going on. 

“No,” Draco said, eyes going back to Potter. “You tend to keep your hair a bit longer than he did.”

“He looks kind of mental,” Harry observed. “Do I look like that?”

“He had a very different life than you’ve had,” Draco reminded Harry. 

Draco noticed silence had fallen in the office. Harry turned away from Potter and took in the rest of the room. 

“What are they waiting for?”

“Snape.”

“Huh?”

“She’s an evil little toad in pink and wants to give Potter some truth serum to find out who he was talking to in the fireplace, which was what she caught Potter doing after he broke into her office,” Draco explained, indicating to Umbridge. “Snape’s got the serum, they are waiting for him.” 

“Why’d Potter use her fireplace?”

“No clue. You’ll see why,” Draco assured. 

They waited a few more seconds before Snape’s footsteps sounded in the corridor and the door swung open to reveal the man in all his bat-like glory. He wore a look of complete indifference as he glanced around the room and asked, “You wanted to see me, Headmistress?”

“Headmistress?” Harry squeaked. “What happened to Dumbledore?”

“Shhhh,” Draco hissed. 

“Ah, Professor Snape,” Umbridge simpered, “Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please.”

“You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter,” Snape calmly said, observing the toad like woman cooly through his greasy curtain of hair.

Snape’s hair was a little less greasy this time around. Draco wondered what had caused that. 

“Surely you did not use it all?” Snape asked impassively. “I told you that three drops would be sufficient.”

Draco hadn’t noticed Umbridge’s reaction to this before due to the fact he was enjoying the power he was lording over Potter and his misfits, but this time, Draco noticed the little toad’s flush of embarrassment.

She’d used the whole bottle. 

What the hell did she think Potter knew?

“You can make some more, can’t you?” she demanded, her voice becoming ever so more girlish as it always did when she was utterly furious. 

Draco snorted.

“How can she not know it takes at least a month to make a bottle?” Harry asked as Snape explained just that. 

“A month?” squawked the woman, swelling quite like a toad before it let out a huge croak. “A month? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!”

“How’d she’d even become headmistress and not know that?” Harry muttered. “Even I know that…what a…cow. Wait, I think I just insulted cows.”

Draco snickered. 

“Really?” Snape asked, showing the first signs of interest as he looked over at Potter, who wore an expressionless mask. Draco was impressed at Potter’s ability to do this, as he’d never noticed the guy had been able to hide his emotions before. No wonder Harry could do it. ”Well, it doesn’t surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules.”

Harry watched Snape, a look of slight shock painting his features as he observed the stare down between Snape and Potter. 

“I wish to interrogate him!” Umbridge shouted at the same time Harry breathed, “Wow, he really hates Potter.”

“I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!”

“I have already told you,” Snape smoothly said, breaking eye contact with Potter, “that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter— and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did—”

“Blatantly hates Potter,” Harry added.

“— I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling…”

“You are on probation!” Umbridge shirked. 

Snape slightly raised his eyebrows. 

“You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office,” Umbridge raged. 

Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave.

“He’s got Padfoot!” Potter bellowed out of nowhere, making Harry jump.  

“That’s what he shouted!” Draco exclaimed, slapping his forehead. “That’s how I knew I’d heard that name before! How’d I forget?” 

“He’s got Padfoot in the place that it’s hidden!” Potter shouted, the desperation for Snape to understand clear.

“Padfoot?” Umbridge cried, looking eagerly between Potter and Snape, who had turned back around at Potter’s outburst. “What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?”

“Who has Sirius?” Harry demanded of Draco, looking around wildly as Snape stared Potter down again expressionlessly. 

“Pretty sure the only person that would have riled Potter up is the same one who’d rile you up to the point of recklessness.”

“Oh,” Harry said, realizing.

“We can go now,” Draco said. “That’s pretty much I what I wanted to show you.”

Draco placed a hand on Harry’s arm and pulled upwards. Soon both boys were raising their heads out of the basin. Harry looked as if he had a million questions. 

“Umbridge became the DADA professor our fifth year, mostly because the Ministry wanted to keep track of what was going on at Hogwarts and discredit Dumbledore further than they already had. It’s likely she’ll be around this year again. 

“She and Potter did not get along. Potter, if you could see, was somewhat of angry. He spent most of the year yelling and shouting at professors, his friends, you name it…”

“Well, yeah, he…” Harry trailed off, understanding why Potter was rather irate. 

“I know. Most of the school thought Potter was mad, mental, and everything else the _Daily Prophet_ published and his behavior didn’t help any. However, he did get his story out there and the whole school did read it,” Draco went on. “This made Umbridge mad, as she was dead set on the fact Voldemort had not returned. Because that was what the Ministry said.”

“So, she and Potter were enemies. That doesn’t explain why she was headmistress.”

“She basically took over Hogwarts. She was appointed Hogwarts Inquisitor, something I’m sure she and Fudge made up, then began to issue her control over everything at the school. She became Headmistress after Potter and his band of friends were caught meeting illegally, as it was against the rules to meet together in group of more than two or something. Also, they called their little group Dumbledore’s Army. Dumbledore had to flee the school and she became headmistress,” Draco explained. “She gave Potter a life ban from Quidditch, cancelled Hogsmeade trips…pretty much took away everything fun. And, as you can see, I was rather gleeful about the whole thing.”

“That wasn’t you.”

“Yes, Harry, it was me. When I was your age,” Draco reminded the boy. “I was a member of what was called the Inquisition Squad. I basically went around ‘upholding’ all her rules.”

Harry frowned. “So, what was Dumbledore’s Army? Just a group of Potter’s friends?”

“Well, I believe what they were actually doing was doing extra lessons for DADA.”

“Huh?”

“Dolores Umbridge cannot teach anything to save her life,” Draco drawled. “Or maybe she was exceptionally good at her job, as the Ministry didn’t want us learning anything. The Ministry was worried Dumbledore was creating an army.”

Harry snorted. “Hence why they likely called their study group Dumbledore’s Army.”

Draco nodded. 

“If she was a terrible professor, how did you keep up in DADA?”

“The fifth year Slytherins worked in their privacy of their common room, but the other houses didn’t think of this. They got together to have Potter teach them.”

Harry paled. “I can’t teach anyone.”

“You know much more than Potter ever did,” Draco assured. “It’s likely Fudge will go to the lengths he did before to make sure his stooge is in place to keep an eye on things and to make sure neither you nor Dumbledore is spreading the news Voldemort has returned on Fudge’s watch.”

“That’s all the moron cares about,” Harry muttered. “His precious position.”

“True. He’ll loose it because of his failure at handling the second coming of Marv the Snake Man,” Draco replied flatly. 

“Only after making us suffer through Umbrdige. She honestly looks horrible,” Harry complained, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think she was about to torture Potter.”

Draco gave off an uncomfortable laugh. “She was, but Granger saved his skin.”

“Yeah, well, she would, wouldn’t she? She likely thought whatever Potter had done was stupid and pointless in the first place.”

“More than likely. Our Hermione isn’t as annoying as Granger,” Draco admitted. He shifted uncomfortably. “Anyway, the thing that set Potter off in the past was the fact Marv had taken Sirius to the place that it was hidden.”

“What was hidden?”

“What did Marv want?”

“The prophecy.”

Realization dawned on Harry. 

“Do you think he really had Sirius?”

“That, I do not know. Bellatrix was the only Death Eater that night who returned to the manor. The rest were all captured and imprisoned till Voldemort freed them. And they never spoke of that night and all Bellatrix said was she killed Sirius Black, something she was greatly proud of.”

Harry scowled. 

“How’d Marv free them from Azkaban?”

“Got the dementors on his side sometime in the spring, so it was rather easy to break his minions out of the prison. Not sure why they even put them there in the first place,” Draco muttered. 

“Okay, so Marv might have taken Sirius and Potter went off the save him,” Harry concluded. 

“While I do not know for sure if Marv got Sirius, I know for a fact Sirius was an escapee from prison in the previous timeline. He didn’t exactly go out in public. I’m sure he was hidden in this very house, which had many protections plus a Secret Keeper. There was no way he could get captured by Voldemort unless he ventured outside, which I get the feeling he didn’t do often. And if he were to go out, he’d be out with a wide array of Order members.”

“Then, why did Potter think Marv had Sirius?”

Draco shrugged. “Remember fixed points?”

“Yeah.”

“The summer is always fixed.”

“You’re telling me I’m going to run off the Ministry to save Sirius?”

“Yes.” 

Harry frowned. “He died. You said Sirius died. Bellatrix killed Sirius.”

“She’s not going to.”

“Cedric…”

“Was unfortunate, but we can change things. You won’t be alone, this time, Harry,” Draco said, finally getting to what he had decided he ought to tell Harry to get him out of his doldrums.

Harry’s super green eyes looked up pleadingly at Draco to further explain. 

“You were alone in that graveyard Harry. Hermione and myself couldn’t go with you to help. Dumbledore could not get to you to help. You had to depend on Voldemort’s arrogance in order to get out of there. This time, when you go to the Ministry to face whatever trap he’s set for you, you’ll have people with you. Remember everyone in the office? Longbottom, the two Weasley children, Lovegood, and Granger? They all went with Potter to the Ministry.”

Harry stared at Draco, his mouth opening in shock. 

“They went with? That’s dangerous. Why did…”

“I doubt Potter let them come along willingly. One thing you have in common with Potter is that you both inspire people to follow after you into danger,” Draco wryly said. “So, this time, Neville, Ginny, Hermione, Luna, Atlanta, and Tom will come along. And me. There will be three people there Potter didn’t have last time. That ups our chances of getting Sirius out alive, or getting the prophecy for ourselves, and I highly doubt Voldemort had or will be able to get Sirius in the first place.” 

“I don’t…”

“I don’t care if you want us to come along or not,” Draco snapped. “We will be going.”

Harry set his mouth stubbornly. 

“And we know, Harry. We _know_ ,” Draco reminded Harry. “We know what Marv plans, what he wants, what he will do. We know him, be it from my knowledge or Tom.”

Harry looked away at the mention of Tom. 

“What happened between you and Tom?”

Harry crossed his arms, pressing his lips together.

Draco sighed, feeling like he wasn’t going to get anywhere with that line of questioning— not that it bothered him. He honestly didn’t want to know, he simply was trying to be a good friend and give Harry a chance to talk about what was bothering him. 

“Well, all right. Let’s…”

“He told me not to leave the house that night,” Harry burst out. “But I didn’t listen and went out anyway and the dementors happened! Dementors in Little Wheeling!”

Draco frowned. 

“I bet Marv sent them,” Harry muttered.

“No. We went over this. He’s lying low,” Draco assured Harry. “Dementors follow the orders of the Ministry. They get what they want if they do.”

“What do they want?”

“Souls, emotions? I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “They suck all the good feelings out and like death. Azkaban is the best place for them.” 

Harry and Draco sat in silence for a moment. 

“The Ministry sent them for me,” Harry quietly realized, looking mad. He raised a pair of furious eyes to Draco. “They sent them and gave them permission to administer Kisses.”

Draco felt horrified. That had not been reported, nor had Harry mentioned it before. “Excuse me?”

“They went straight for the Kiss,” Harry said darkly. “Why would the Ministry want me dead?”

“You don’t die.” 

“You pretty much are,” Harry grumbled. 

“It makes no sense for the Ministry to want Harry Potter dead!” Draco burst out, getting to his feet. “If the Ministry sent those dementors, what are they playing at?”

“What if it wasn’t the Ministry but someone who wished to silence me?” Harry asked. “Someone who works in the ministry?”

Draco and Harry stared at one another, neither having any idea what to think exactly. 

* * *

When the boys headed downstairs, an owl from the Ministry was waiting to inform Harry he was to stand trial for saving himself and his cousin from a Dementor’s Kiss. 


	3. Save a Heart, Take a Soul

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

“You’ve been sulking for the past three days,” drawled an odd sounding accent.

Tom looked away from his work to find Atlanta Lupin standing in the doorway. Since arriving back at the flat, Tom had not seen or heard from Atlanta. Remus was beside himself, as he could not for the life of him figure out what was wrong with his daughter. She’d been in her room since arriving home from school and refused to come out passed opening the door to accept plates of food.

“And you’ve finally come out of your cave,” Tom shot back, not caring about the fact Atlanta had been shaken as Harry with the return of the Snake Faced Tyrant. 

Atlanta smirked, entering his room and slamming the door behind her. Her strange amber-blue eyes swept over the mess Tom had created since his homecoming. 

“You are like totally salty right now and I know you’re not having nightmares. I’ve got every excuse to be a little punk, what’s yours?” Atlanta asked, absently itching her left forearm. 

Tom turned away from her.

“He won’t talk to you, will he? Frustrating isn’t it?”

“You refuse to speak to your own father,” Tom snapped. 

“You’re not his father,” Atlanta said. “That be totally gross.” 

Tom threw a pen at her. She caught it before it did any damage. 

“I know you fail to get it, but that’s fine. I doubt you’ll figure it out any time soon,” she teased, smirking at him in a familiar manner. 

It was like looking into a mirror. They could be twins. It was disturbing, as they shared no genes, no common ancestors — yet thanks to his future self, they looked so similar it was unsettling.

“I’ve no idea what you speak of,” Tom hauntingly snapped, narrowing his eyes at her. “What do you want?”

“A bit of this, bit of that,” Atlanta admitted laying on her Southern drawl for some reason. She looked away from him and studied the chaos of his bedroom. “You and Harry had a fight.”

Tom snorted.

“He’s having nightmares,” Atlanta concluded. “He refuses to tell you what they are about, or what you can do, and that has frustrated you. I have a feeling he went off and did something stupid.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “The whole world knows that.”

Atlanta turned to him, their eyes locking. For a second Tom thought he didn’t see any blue in her eyes and they were fully amber, but it had to be the trick of the light. 

“I don’t read the paper. If I want fiction, I’ll read Tolstoy.”

Tom stared at the child. “Tolstoy? If you had to pick a fiction author to read over the _Daily Prophet_ you’d pick a Russian writer who wrote _War and Peace_?”

“I was more thinking about _Anna Karenia_ , but _War and Peace_ would work just as well. Both are huge and good for pillows, right?”

Tom huffed out a breath and threw his pencil down on his desktop. “What do you want, Lupin?”

“Oh no! The surname. Must be getting somewhere,” Atlanta teased, brushing the papers off his bed, a look of curiosity on her face at the sight of his calculations. “What are you doing?”

“None of your business.”

“Looks like you’re trying to create a spell.”

“Brilliant. Well, done. I’m a Spellsmith. Who would thought I’d sit around creating spells?” Tom sarcastically spat. 

Atlanta threw the pen at him. Because it was enchanted with Addy Black’s magic, it hit him in the forehead. 

“This isn’t for profit, Riddle,” Atlanta said, narrowing her eyes. “This isn’t even what it looks like when you create spells. You’re trying to make yourself solid.”

She cocked her head to the side, her head going forward a little and her eyes closing. When she lifted her head, she was holding herself more stiffly and rigid. 

“So what if I am?” Tom asked, frowning. 

Atlanta reached out and picked up one of the sheets of paper.  

“How’s it going?” she asked, sounding more like her usual self. “It appears as if you’re getting somewhere.” 

Tom glared at her, as he was not getting anywhere. 

“What do you want?”

He set his face into a hard expression, one he had often worn when battling against his fellow Slytherins. It usually got him what he wanted: to be left alone. 

Atlanta didn’t leave, if anything, she mirrored his expression. And the light was playing tricks again with her eyes. It was annoying.  

“Harry’s having nightmares.”

Tom gave her a look.

“I know he refuses to speak to you, but I assure you he simply doesn’t wish to relive them,” Atlanta said, accenting going more posh by the second.

She was so strange today. 

“I do not need him to tell me what he dreams of,” Tom snapped. “He shouts in his sleep.”

Atlanta paled (if that was possible, as the child was almost white since she’d clearly not gotten any sun since arriving home from school). 

“Thus, I’m perfectly aware of what he dreams of and have no need for him to tell me,” Tom ground out. 

“Then why are you so angry?”

Tom did not bother to answer. In truth, he was frustrated not angry. He could not make the nightmares stop, could not force Harry to deal with the pain he was currently in, nor did Tom even know how to help Harry wake up from his nightmares. While Tom could touch Harry, he was unable to wake the child up when he was in the throws of a violent nightmare. The only ones Tom had success at where the calmer dreams where Harry muttered about being almost there, almost there. 

Atlanta sighed. “Mine don’t make any sense, but I fear going to sleep.”

Tom frowned, putting his full attention on Atlanta. Her posture had changed once more and she was a little less rigid and had stopped speaking as if she had a mouth full of marbles.  

“You are him, right? You two were the same at one point, correct?” she asked in a very small voice.

“Yes, I believe so,” Tom admitted, much to his dismay. “We were the same till Walburga Black captured a bit of my magic and something else in her sketchbook. She captured what I was at that age, at that moment. After, I continued…to change.”

Atlanta nodded, picking at the duvet like Harry was prone to do when he was thinking. 

“So, at one point, the boy…I met was like you?”

“No. I’ve grown and changed since I emerged from the sketchbook,” Tom flatly reminded the child. This was a familiar discussion. When Tom had first met Atlanta Lupin after her debacle with Lord Voldemort, he had assured her he was quite different from the man he became as well as the young man she’d dealt with in 1943. However, because she’d met Tom in the 1970s when Addy had drawn her out of 1943, she knew he was different than the Riddle she’d left behind, yet after having her mind fixed, she’d needed reassurance.

“He’s a loss cause, isn’t he?” Atlanta asked, going rigid and stiff again and sounding more British. 

“Voldemort? Yes, he is. He’s created horcruxes, remember?”

Atlanta shivered. “Yes. Yes, I remember.”

She shrunk into herself. Tom was sure he was the only one she’d told (besides what Remus had seen in her head) about the day she found out about Voldemort’s research into horcruxes. Tom was utterly horrified (and rightly so) on Voldemort’s reaction to finding out his supposed sister had discovered what he was up to. (Calliope Riddle wasn’t stupid and had realized he planned to make more than one just by what she’d found in his trunk during her search for her textbook.) 

“Harry is one, correct?”

“You know as well as I do there’s something wrong with that scar on his head,” Tom reminded her. “I’m sure he’s a horcrux.”

It was silent for a moment. Tom looked back at Atlanta to find her sitting on his bed with her eyes closed once more. Her posture had become looser once more. Feeling his gaze, Atlanta looked up and stared at him for a moment, her eyes looking more amber again. 

“He doesn’t know, does he?” 

“Who? Harry or Darth Sidious?”

Atlanta snorted. “Sidious? You made a _Star Wars_ reference for Voldemort?”

“Why not? They both want to dominate society and mold it in their image,” Tom offered. 

“When did you see _Star Wars_?”

Tom didn’t answer. Fact was it’d been when he’d been at Harry’s. He’d instructed Harry how to fix the broken TV in his bedroom, sent him to rent the VHS of the whole series, and forced Harry to watch with him. Tom had heard Addy talking about _Star Wars_ , had witnessed the phenomena, but had been unable to go to the cinema to see the films due to the fact he was home bound after Addy died. 

“Whatever,” Atlanta sighed. “Do you know what is in store for this year?”

“Something about Sidious wanting a prophecy that is stored in the Ministry. Potter went there in the summer, faced off with Sidious, but failed to get the prophecy as it broke at some point,” Tom reported flatly, looking back at his desktop. “Sirius was the only causality. Met his death at the end of Bellatrix’s wand.”

Atlanta made a face of distaste. “Well, that can’t happen.”

“No. Best not add another death to Harry’s conscious.”

Atlanta picked at the duvet for a few more minutes before blankly looking at the old world map tacted on the wall behind her. Tom had never really understood why the map was in the room, but Addy had put it up after she’d finished redecorating the room. 

“It’s manly!” she had exclaimed, pointing to the blue walls and ancient leather accents all over the place. 

“Why do you need a manly study?” Tom had drawled, as at this point she’d kicked him out of the room and forced him upstairs with Sirius. 

She’d redecorated shortly before she’d died. It occurred to him after she was dead why she’d redecorated the room: for him. 

“What if the deaths are what make him what he needs to be to defeat…Sidious?” Atlanta quietly asked, eyes looking at Eastern Europe. 

Tom was quiet for a minute before answering. “Maybe Potter needed them, but Harry does not.”

“Stubborn,” Atlanta muttered, turning her head back towards him. “Think. His parents died to give him purpose. Cedric died to take away his innocence. Sirius died to cut him off from his last parent figure.”

Throughout her rant, she sounded more American Southern. Tom frowned at her.

“If you go with that logic, Narcissa is going to have to die,” Tom pointed out. “She’s rather mother-like to the child.”

“As was Mrs Weasley likely towards Potter.”

Tom raised an eyebrow.

“It only makes sense,” Atlanta went on, picking at the duvet again. “Draco replaced Ronald Weasley. Potter spent quiet a bit of time with the Weasley family. And from I’ve seen of the woman, she would be hard pressed not to treat someone as her own child. It’s in her nature to be motherly.”

“Makes sense,” Tom agreed. “Okay, so Potter never lost his mother-figure, but I have a feeling he never felt like that towards her. Sirius was his and his alone. He did not have to share him.”

Atlanta hummed. “This time Harry’s sharing Sirius, though, Tom. This time, Regulus is here. He lives with Narcissa and Draco. Sirius is also not cut off from the world. This time, Sirius is free.”

“Free,” Tom echoed, eyes un-focusing as he thought over that statement. “That makes all the difference.”

“It does. So, if we go with the logic that each death that occurred to Potter had a purpose in the long run, each death this time around must serve a purpose.”

“But we cannot guess those, as we don’t know the fixed events or what Time will allow us to change.”

“Sirius doesn’t have to die this time,” Atlanta insisted. “Harry doesn’t need to loose him. He’s got a family unit that is different from the one he had before.”

Tom stared at her. While he was not a fan of Sirius, he did not want Harry to loose him either. But, it was likely someone would have to die this year. Each time someone died in the other timeline, the death was filled here. Well, except with Quirrell. He was still alive, if out of his mind. 

“He’s also got you,” Atlanta said, slipping off the bed. “Potter did not have you.”

“I don’t see how I make a difference.”

Atlanta gave him a strange smile, her eyes glittering amber. “Tell me one thing, Tom, just one thing.”

“What?”

“Can Voldemort love?”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

Tom pressed his lips together. 

“He does not love Calliope. She is simply a prized possession,” Atlanta explained. “She is someone he wants for power, for control. He might have realized that love is a power not to overlook, but I believe that’s something he’s long forgotten.”

“He cannot love because…”

“Because why?”

“I suspect he cannot due to the fact he was conceived under a love potion.”

Atlanta quirked an eyebrow. “How do you know this? You never knew your parents, did you?”

“Me? No, I did not,” Tom agreed. “However, I have not been idle. By the time I was the age I was trapped in the notebook, I knew who my parents were. I was named after my birth father and my mother’s father. Marvolo is not a common name, so it was easy to find out that my mother and her family were the Gaunts.”

“When did you find this out?”

“During my years of solitude. I requested wizard genealogy books and spent years researching,” Tom admitted. “I believe only Dumbledore has done so much research into my past as I have done.”

“So, love potion?”

Tom cut a look over at the noisy girl. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this information, but the question if Voldemort could love was clearly something she needed to know about. 

“The Guants were…well, you saw where they lived,” Tom reminded her. “I doubt someone such as Tom Riddle Senior would glance at someone as Merope Gaunt.”

Atlanta extended her head. “True. Her brother wasn’t easy on the eyes.”

“While the wizarding gene was…likely warped from inbreeding, she could still make a potion if she wished. It is not hard to figure out that I was…conceived under the influence of a potion.”

“Why?”

Tom pressed his lips together again. “I’d always felt detached. I’d never been fond of anything.”

“Liar.”

“I was not fond of ANYTHING until I met Addy.”

“Better. I know you cared for Addy. And I know you care about Harry.”

“Harry’s…different.”

“If you say so,” Atlanta said. “But, you can love.”

“I don’t know if I can love.”

“You can love. You weren’t conceived as Voldemort. You were conceived out of expired potions and Addy Black. Sure, there were bits of the original Tom Riddle in that sketchbook, but you are quite different from the boy I met in 1943,” Atlanta said firmly. “You do not suffer under the delusion you are greater than everyone else, nor do you think as he did. Or does. Everything is centered around him and power.”

“I have no desire to have that kind of power.”

“No. I find it weird.”

Tom frowned.

“In some ways the two of you are so similar, yet in other ways you are very different people— just like you are always insisting.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I need to know if I can trust you, Tom,” Atlanta said, a hard look on her face. “We’re going to war against the man who rewrote my personality and history. He wants Calliope back on his side, standing by his side and using her voice to sway people. Calliope will do it, too. Calliope loves him, even after all he’s done. She _loves_ him even though she knows now he can’t love her back.”

Tom shivered. 

“All he must do suppress me,” Atlanta said. “Calliope is still in here.” She tapped her head. “And he knows that.” She shoved up her sleeve and showed him the ugly scar on her arm. “The moment he came back, this thing tingled. I felt him, the power, the familiar blanket fell over me again. And while I was scared, there was a part of me that was happy he wasn’t dead, that he’d found his way back.”

Tom stared at her. “What are you saying?”

“I am Calliope and Atlanta. I am something else all together.”

Tom felt there was a little too much in that statement for him to parse out.

“You love,” Atlanta said, her more than usual amber gaze glowing. “I do not know how, but it has something to do with how you found yourself here. You are still Tom Riddle and everything that made him what he was, who he was when he was fourteen—” 

“Or fifteen.”

“—and whatever Addy might have been feeling when she spilled the potion on the sketchbook. I know it wasn’t whatever Walburga was feeling as then you’d be simply obsessive. Voldemort is already obsessive. You, Tom, are not obsessive. You care, you love, you feel. You have emotions and are able to understand them like a normal human being, not a stunted one such as Voldemort.

“And what you said about the love potion makes sense. It doesn’t make you love, it makes you obsessive.”

Tom nodded. 

“It doesn’t deal with emotions, feelings. It’s simply obsession. So, it would be a draw back of the potion that any child conceived under the influence would have some sort of deficiency. Like, well, Muggle drug addicts who have children. Those children have problems.”

Tom nodded. “So, because I wasn’t ‘born’ under the influence of the love potion, unlike Voldemort, I am not obsessive and I can love like a normal person. And this is important because?”

“Uh, because,” Atlanta said, looking away and staring at the duvet cover again. 

Tom slowly stood up. “Why are you here?” 

“We’re going to save Sirius Black,” Atlanta said. “And if I am right, someone is going to have to die that night instead of Sirius.”

“A life for a life?”

Atlanta nodded. 

“You’re going to give yourself?”

“It would be for the best, if you think about it,” Atlanta admitted, turning away from Tom. “Regulus cannot stand to look at me, Dad is besides himself in trying to keep me safe he’s no longer paying attention to his own life, and Sirius is downright miserable because Remus won’t pay attention to him.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Tom muttered. “He is fine.”

“If Harry informed you he never wished to see you again, what would you do?”

Tom froze, staring at Atlanta blankly. 

“While Dad didn’t exactly say he wished to never see Sirius again, he avoids Sirius,” Atlanta went on. “And I am not an idiot. They are still in love with one another.”

Tom snorted. “If you say so.”

“It’d be best to let me die as I cannot be used as a tool if I am not here,” Atlanta said, finally stating her real reason for her kamikaze mission. 

Tom swallowed heavily. “It does not…this is wrong.”

“Planning my death to save Sirius?”

“Yes.”

Atlanta grinned. It was a horrible grin, one Tom wished to never see again. “Good.”

And with that, she left the room. Tom stared at the open door as he heard her enter the main lounge and engage Remus in conversation. She behaved as if nothing was wrong, that she’d finally dealt with her issues, and was perfectly fine now. Tom was sure Remus did not buy it (he knew her too well), but the man could not mask his relief his daughter was finally out of her room and behaving a bit more like herself. 

Tom set his jaw and ground his teeth together.

He might not be as fond of Atlanta as he was of Addy Black, but damn if he was going to let her get herself killed. He wasn’t about to let anyone die. Too many people had died already at the end of Voldemort’s wand or due to his warped agenda.

Tom went back to work. He had a lot to do to figure out how to make himself solid.  


	4. Potter Lives Again

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Regulus found them in the treasure filled attic. After showing Harry the memory in the Pensive, all Harry wanted to do with their time was sift through the junk in the stuffy attic. On the third day, Draco taught himself the proper room cooling charm as going through the heaps of junk helped keep Harry’s mind off his upcoming trial. 

“I figured I’d find you two here,” Regulus said by way of greeting. 

Draco watched the young man gaze around the dusty, sun lit room with a combination of wistfulness and sadness. His eyes lingered on the dull purple stain on the floor near a shelf of old, dangerous potions.  

“Is the meeting over?” Harry asked, popping up like a groundhog. Regulus and Draco startled. Harry had a few dust bunnies in his out of control hair, which went flying as he ran his hand over his hair. “Didn’t we just get up here? We haven’t been here long, have we?”

“The meeting ended a quarter hour ago,” Regulus said slowly, eyes finally leaving the purple stain. “Sirius would have come up to get you, but he’s trying to speak to Remus.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, how’s that going for him?”

Regulus snorted. “Smashing.”

Draco, who didn’t know the whole story of what happened between the two men in the past, looked between Regulus and Harry for an explanation. Harry shrugged and vanished. Regulus moved further into the attic, heading for the area where all the old frames Narcissa had rejected lay in wait for a better use. 

“I wished to speak to you two alone,” Regulus began, fingers brushing lightly over the frames. “While Sirius is free with Order operations, there is something he and Narcissa do not believe either of you needs to be burden with.”

Draco put down the chess board he’d recently unearthed. “What are you talking about?”

Regulus, his attention still on the abandoned frames, said, “Do you happen to know what a horcrux is?”

Regulus looked up at this point, stormy blue eyes locking onto Draco’s blank expression. Harry knocked a few things over and stumbled out of the mess and sqeaked, “What?”

“Interesting,” Regulus muttered. “Draco has no clue what that word means, yet you do. And you know you shouldn’t.”

Harry straightened, his cheeks a little pink. “Well, too late. I know what they are.”

“Tom?”

“Yeah.”

“Figures.”

“What is a horcrux?” Draco demanded. 

“The darkest Dark Magic there is,” Regulus said, shuddering. “They are…bits of soul hidden away to keep the maker alive.”

Draco felt utterly repulsed. “Why?”

“To be immortal,” Harry flatly said, vanishing from sight again. 

“Why do you know what they are? What have you and Tom been doing?” Draco asked. 

“Trying to figure out what’s up with my scar,” Harry’s voice said from far off. “Haven’t gotten anywhere as there is no information other than what Tom remembers reading…from before.”

“He knew about them back then?” Regulus gasped. 

“Yeah,” Harry said with a challenge in his tone.

“What are Sirius and Mother doing that concerns these things?” Draco demanded. 

“Voldemort has several of them. We believe seven,” Regulus said, turning his attention to Draco. 

Draco wanted to throw up.

“What?!”

Harry shot out of a bunch of boxes, causing them to topple to the ground around him. He looked disgusted, not surprised, and a little green. Regulus, also, appeared to be channelling a pea. 

“Father and I worked together before our…deaths. I personally knew of two, maybe three,” Regulus explained. “Father was researching strange deaths among his former classmate. He believed Voldemort was taking them out. And your grandfather,” Regulus pointed at Draco, “gave Narcissa Auror images similar to the ones Father had. He also felt Voldemort was up to no good.”

“What images?” Harry asked. 

“The bodies. To make a horcrux, one must commit a murder. Murder rips apart your soul, leaving a bit disconnected. In order to take this bit of soul and put it in a horcurx, you must perform the murder a certain way. It leaves a mark.”

“What mark?” Draco whispered.

Regulus’ blue-grey eyes drifted over to where Harry was standing. Harry slapped his hand over his hand, hiding his scar.

Draco’s jaw dropped, gaping like a fish.

“Harry was supposed to be one of these deaths?”

“Yes,” Regulus said. 

“Tom thinks I am one,” Harry whispered before crashing to the ground. “He said…said that horcruxes were something Voldemort would be interested in, as he’d been before…well, before he fully understood the value of a soul. I didn’t want to believe him, as I don’t want _his_ soul inside me!”

“Mother believes this?”

“She and Sirius do entertain the idea that Harry might indeed be a horcrux,” Regulus admitted quietly. “Your mother has gathered quite a bit of information on all the victims. My father was one. They are all marked with a numeral seven.”

“I don’t have a seven. I’ve got a lighting bolt.”

“And an inverted seven,” Draco whispered.

“Huh?”

Regulus bent down and in the dust near his feet he drew a large seven, then an upside down seven.

“Look familiar?” Draco drawled shakily. 

Harry rubbed the scar. “How do I get it out?”

“And there lies our problem,” Regulus sighed. “All the books written on the topic have vanished. We know, thanks to Atlanta, Voldemort had books in his sixth year at Hogwarts that expounded on the topic. He never returned them.”

“How do you know? Dumbledore might have pulled them from the shelves,” Draco said. Harry looked aghast. “What? It makes sense. Why that kind of information is in a school library is beyond me.”

“Dumbledore did not. He had no idea how to destroy the two horcruxes he had, till Harry showed up with a basilisk fang through a diary,” Regulus reported. 

“That diary was one?” Harry asked, turning white.

Draco shuddered.

Regulus nodded. “Sirius and Narcissa have conferred with Dumbledore on the topic this summer. He told them he destroyed the two he had had since the seventies. Kreacher backed this up, as he required himself to be there as I’d told him he had to see the locket destroyed.”

Harry looked confused. 

“I’d given his servitude to Addy by this point, but he was still rather loyal. She was the only person who could override my orders, which she did, as he didn’t leave me behind,” Regulus explained to Harry, who looked a little horrified. 

“You wanted to be left behind? Why?”

“I recognized the potion Kreacher had ingested. While it failed to kill him, I was not going to make him go through that once more,” Regulus explained. “Once ingested, it would kill me— or so I thought. Clearly, due to Addy’s actions…”

Regulus trailed off, motioning to himself helplessly. Harry shifted uncomfortably. 

“That’s what Potter was looking for during our seventh year,” Draco suddenly realized. “Right? Addy’s letter to me mentioned she’d found whatever Potter was looking for in the Room of Requirement. That was the other one Dumbledore had, right?”

Regulus nodded. “Yes. She found a diadem, Ravenclaw’s.”

Draco gasped while Harry looked a little confused. 

“He turned that into a horcrux!?” Draco shouted.

“What? What’s a diadem?”

“The Founders all have objects, each with magical properties that make them highly valuable,” Regulus explained. “Voldemort decided to turn the ones he found into horcruxes. Each horcrux has had some connection to the Founders.”

“What was the other one?” Draco asked. “There was the diadem and the diary. What was the other one?”

“Slytherin’s locket.”

“Locket?” Harry asked skeptically. 

Regulus nodded. “Yes.”

“So, he had a diary, a crown, and a locket? What? Was he a teenage girl?” Harry asked, raking a hand through his hair. More dust bunnies went flying.

“And you,” Draco offered. 

“I was an accident,” Harry reminded the room. 

“Was that all you wanted to tell us? About horcruxes?” Draco asked, turning his attention to Regulus. 

Regulus nodded. “We can’t kill him till we find all of them and dispose of them.”

“Does he know when bits of his soul are destroyed?” Harry asked.

“No,” Draco quickly said. “No, he doesn’t. Potter and Friends spent our seventh year on the run, likely looking for these things. It wasn’t until the summer that Voldemort realized something was amiss. He didn’t know the diary was gone till he asked Father for it upon his return. Oh, Potter went to Gringotts and broke into the Lastrange family vault. We thought he was going after the sword of Gryffindor, but I think they were after something else. Bellatrix seemed to think…”

“I believe one is in her vault. A cup of some sort,” Regulus said. “She was bragging Voldemort had given her a cup of great importance for safe keeping.”

Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, so diary, locket, crown, cup, and a baby,” Harry recited. “And you said there were likely seven?”

“It’s a magical number, strong, and surrounded by luck,” Regulus reminded the pair. “And it is his symbol. His true symbol.”

Draco nodded. “It would appeal to him.”

“I was born in the seventh month,” Harry reminded the pair. 

“Likely why he picked you,” Regulus offered. 

Harry scowled. 

“If he is doing Founders objects, or things related to the Founders, then he’d still need something from Gryffindor. Plus, two others.”

Regulus nodded. “The only known relic of Gryffindor is the sword. And we know it’s not a horcrux.” 

“Did the Founders only each have one object?”

Regulus nodded. “There could be other objects that relate to them, somehow, that he found.”

Harry frowned while Draco nodded. 

“So, the only way to destroy one is to stab it with a fang from Medusa?” Harry asked in a small voice.

Regulus gave him a pitying look before nodding. “Dumbledore theorizes that maybe cursed fire would do it as well, from what Addy told him she’d seen in her past.”

“Great. We can set me on fire instead of stabbing with a poisonous fang!”

Draco rocketed to his feet, knocking over a box in his haste. He ignored the objects that rolled out, shouting at the same time he cried, “OH! OH! OH!”

“What?”

Draco grabbed his hair and stared at Harry with wild eyes. 

“The Killing Curse!”

“You’re going to kill me?”

“No. But maybe that would do it,” Draco said. “Potter went to his death. Willingly. Voldemort said Potter was dead. Claimed he ran away, but that cannot be true. Potter didn’t run. Potter would have walked into that forest and met Voldemort head held high.”

“Great,” Harry sighed.

“No, but wait, wait. What if the Killing Curse didn’t kill Potter? What if he was alive, just playing dead?”

“Playing dead?” Regulus echoed, looking doubtful. “I thought the whole reason you returned was because he died?”

“No! I came back to stop Voldemort from destroying my family.”

Regulus gave Draco a look.

“He didn’t ruin it yet. He’s doing a good job, but really. My father might detest me and Mother might be working to get rid of him, but if he wishes to align with a force we’ve both deemed unworthy, it’s his head. Not ours. Last time it was all of ours.”

“Narcissa went along with it?”

“She’s different now,” Draco reminded Regulus. “She was a good society witch, held all the right beliefs, and toed the line. Then…Father failed the Dark Lord and everything went to pear shaped. She became a prisoner in her own home, terrorized by the people there. I know she was terrified of Bellatrix.”

Regulus shuddered. 

“Something happened this time that made her stronger, made her look at the world differently. I’ve no idea what it was, but I don’t care. I’ve got my mother back and she’s…she’s better.”

Harry frowned. “What about your dad? You lost him.”

“I never had him,” Draco snapped. “But, that’s not the point. The point is, what if the Killing Curse didn’t kill Potter, but the horcrux in his head!”

“What?” Harry and Regulus asked.

“Yeah!” Draco said, balling his fists and waving them around. “It’s batty enough Dumbledore would have thought of it! I mean, how on Earth do you remove a horcrux from a person? It’s never been done because there’s never been a person horcrux until Harry! He must have known!”

“But…but…would he…have told Potter this?” Harry asked, looking horrified that Dumbledore would have plotted Potter’s death— might be plotting Harry’s death. 

“I don’t know! I didn’t know Potter and I’ve thought he was dead the past five years because the Dark Lord said so,” Draco reminded him. 

“So, we’re going to shoot a Killing Curse at me and hope I live again?” Harry muttered.

“No. I bet it has to be Marv,” Draco said, stroking his chin and thinking it over. “It makes sense: only the owner of the soul can kill it with the Killing Curse.” 

“Oh, great!” Harry said, throwing his arms up and kicking one of the complaining objects on the floor.  

“He wants to kill you,” Draco reminded Harry.

“But why? I’m a horcrux. I keep him living.”

“You are so much more than a horcrux,” came a new voice from behind Regulus.

The three in the attic all jumped various degrees at the sound of the new voice.

“Tom!” Harry shouted.

“How did you get here?” Regulus asked.

“Floo,” Tom said, tossing his block up and down in his hand. He came up the last few stairs, sinking through one when the block was too far to make his feet solid. “So, we’re sure the scar in Harry’s head is a horcrux. Goody.”

“You knew it was,” Regulus accused. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Sirius?”

“It’s Harry’s head,” Tom replied, hand fisting around his block. “I also was not completely positive the scar was a horcrux. We were unable to get the books I most wanted due to the fact they were out of Harry’s reach.”

“Oh,” Regulus breathed and ran off in a familiar fashion. 

“He cannot be going to the library like Hermione does when she does that,” Harry said.

“I believe he is,” Tom offered. “Harry, may I speak to you? Alone?”

Draco stared at Tom, who only had eyes for Harry. Harry frowned, but nodded. Draco exited the attic. He was on the third floor when he ran head first into Regulus. Regulus was clutching a small, dingy book.

“Tom and Harry are speaking. Alone.”

Regulus frowned. “Oh.”

“What do you have there?”

“This is the book Father loaned Voldemort. No one in the Black family is able to read it. Sirius claimed he asked someone, likely Tom, recently, but I know if he’d asked Tom, Tom would have read it, then told Harry about it. I don’t think anyone has read it since Voldemort read it.”

Regulus held the book out. Draco didn’t want to touch the book. It felt evil. More so than the Diary of Ill Intent, which now knowing what the diary had been made of, it all the worse.

Regulus and Draco sat down on the stairs leading from the attic to wait for the Dynamic Duo. The pair remerged a few minutes later, Tom floating down the stairs sans block while Harry bounced, a determined look on his face. 

“Hey, what’s that?” Harry asked, noticing the book Regulus had. “You did go to the library.”

“Father loaned this to Voldemort,” Regulus replied. “No one can read it, but Father assumed Voldemort was able since he requested it.”

“Of course,” Tom breathed, staring at the cover in horror. “It’s written in Parseltounge.”

Tom’s whole body shuddered. 

“Great,” Harry sighed, looking disgusted. “It’s not an evil language. This is why it gets a bad wrap! Fine. Give it here. I’ll read the evil book.” 

“You are not the only one who is able to read it, Harry,” Tom reminded him. “Just because I’m no longer Heir of Slytherin doesn’t mean I lost that skill because you gained it.”

“Excuse me?” Regulus asked. 

“Slytherin made me the actual heir, dethroning Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets when I battled Diary Marv. Tom has finally come to grips with it.”

“But he said you gained _it._ ”

“Slytherin also said something about gifts being made mine. Tom assumes that I show similar traits to Marv due to growing up with a bit of him in my head.”

“Hence why you could speak Parseltounge,” Draco guessed. 

Harry nodded.

“How…” Regulus trailed off looking confused. 

“No clue. Someone, we’re guessing Slytherin’s spirit or something, pet my head and Medusa said I smelled right,” Harry shrugged. He reached out and took the book from Regulus, holding it far from him and between two fingers. “Let’s take this book somewhere safe to read. Oh, the attic.”

Harry turned tailed and ran back up the stairs, Tom trailing after him. 

“Do we go?”

“No. Tom will tell us what they’ve read and if it is helpful.”

“Will he?”

“Harry will if not Tom,” Regulus assured him. “I honestly have no desire to be anywhere near them when they read the book.”

“Should a fifteen-year-old read such a book?”

“No, but Harry’s not simply fifteen,” Regulus reasoned. “He’s old before his time thanks to circumstance.”

“I can’t believe it’s an accidental horcrux in his head. No. Wait. Yes, yes I can,” Draco muttered, going down the stairs and missing the shadowy figure hiding in a window seat. 

* * *

Harry wanted to throw up.

“I cannot read any more of this book,” he said, getting to his feet and walking to one of the dormer windows that overlooked the backyard. He threw it open and sucked in the muggy air. 

Tom did not say anything. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Tom still floating near the book, eyes going over the page they’d been reading. It spoke of how to create a horcrux in great detail. 

Tom looked as sick as Harry felt. 

“Please come turn the page. You do not need to read this. I’ll read it, then tell Regulus if there’s anything of import,” Tom said emotionlessly.

Harry trudged back over to Tom and flicked the page. After a minute, they set up a system for Harry to page turn when Tom was finished by just having Harry watch Tom. Every time he finished with a page, his eyebrows ticked. Tom didn’t spend long on many of the pages till near the end of the book when he gasped. 

“What?”

Tom swallowed loudly and said, “It says that you can spilt the soul as many times as you wish, but you will pay a terrible price. It recommends only doing it once, but says there’s nothing really stopping you from trying it twice. Then it tells the story of a man who spilt it twice.”

Harry felt the bile rise in his throat. 

“This was the book that told him it was possible…even if the man who did it, wound up dead.”

“How?”

“The price he paid was too high, so he destroyed his horcruxes. Voldemort would have seen the man as weak.”

“Why would he make these things? The book keeps telling stories of how these things fail.”

“Because the makers all chose to destroy their horcruxes. Or someone else, in the case of that one wizard,” Tom said. “Please shut that book. I’d suggest you burn it, but I don’t know where you could do so safely.”

Harry slammed it shut and glared at it. While it oozed dark magic, was indeed quite evil, and told how to make horcruxes, it did warn of the prices paid for the objects and how in the end they always failed. 

“He made seven. Hid them. Where?”

“In places that meant something to him. That cave Regulus described? I believe that’s where the orphanage took us in the summer to get away from the city. I…I might have done something…bad to two of my fellow orphans in that cave.”

Harry frowned. “What did you do?”

“Mostly terrorized them, lorded my power over them,” Tom admitted, looking ashamed. “I was not a nice child. They’d made fun of me for speaking to snakes. So, I told them I knew this great cave when we were at the seaside. Only, it was down a cliff. With the aid of magic, we climbed down and I made them swim into the cave. It was beautiful down there, but neither child appreciated it. I’m sure the climb down was what really frightened them, plus the rising tide water. I’m not sure, if I am honest, how we made it back without drowning. I didn’t know about magic at the time.”

Harry nodded. “I hate those stories. They remind me of Dudley.”

“I know,” Tom said quietly, looking away. 

“Would you apologize if you could?”

“Yes. But, they are long gone. I don’t even remember their names, Harry.”

Harry frowned. “Why not?”

“Because they meant nothing to me when I did it to them, passed they’d wronged me. I never bothered to learn people’s names unless they were of import,” Tom admitted, looking miserable. 

“You learn names now. And remember them,” Harry said quietly.

“I remember what they looked like,” Tom whispered. “Harry, I can’t imagine living without…without emotions, without…love. How…”

Tom’s mouth hung open, but no more words came out. He looked like he was in pain, so Harry stood up and sat down next to him, pressing his side into Tom’s to remind him he was indeed tethered to the world. Tom shuddered, and buried his head in his knees, which he drew tightly to his chest. 

“It’s no way to live,” Tom quietly mumbled. “He doesn’t even know…he will never know because he can’t…he can’t love. He cannot feel that emotion.”

“Why not?”

“Because…he was conceived under the influence of a love potion, which doesn’t breed love but obsession,” Tom whispered into his knees. 

“He is obsessed,” Harry agreed. 

“Yes. He does obsession very well.” 

“Do you?” Harry wondered.

Tom lifted his head, gazing at Harry with forlorn looking eyes. “No. I…care rather than obsess over power. It’s…so different. I know both, because before I was captured in the sketchbook, I was Voldemort. I obsessed rather than cared. And it was…horrible now that I know the difference.”

“So, whatever…happened to you, you’re no longer…”

“I was conceived in a different manner than Voldemort. I was born out of potions and Addy Black, who loves. Strongly,” Tom quietly said. “Voldemort was born out of obsession.”

“So, did the book say anything about people horcruxes?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Yes, actually,” Tom said. “It advised not to make a living horcrux because they can think for themselves.”

“Did anyone ever—”

“No.” 

Harry swallowed. “Are you going to speak to Regulus about what you read?”

“Yes. As he gave us the book, I’ll tell him what we’ve discovered,” Tom said. “Then we will destroy this book somehow so no one in the future will ever do what Voldemort has done.”

Harry nodded. “Tom? You know you’re a good person, right?”

“I’m not, Harry.”

“Yeah. You are,” Harry insisted. “You helped me out with the _Slytherin Journals_. You invent spells for a living that help people on a daily basis. You and Addy invented a whole heap of wards that helped keep people safe from Death Eaters.”

“Until they figured out how to get through them.”

“And then you fixed it,” Harry pointed out. “I’m safe right now because of wards you helped create.”

“Harry…”

“Let’s go. We’ll both talk to Regulus. If he’s still here. He tends to go off on missions without saying goodbye,” Harry said, hurrying out of the attic. He was getting a little too touchy-feely for his liking. He wasn’t a girl, he didn’t know how to do this stuff. 


	5. Harry Goes to Trial

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

In the days leading to the hearing Sirius morphed into Sirius Black: Angry Godfather Extraordinaire. Blacks were known for their tempers, and Sirius made sure that everyone knew he was VERY displeased with the fact Fudge had gone and CHANGED the Underaged Magic laws in order to give his godson a hearing for trying to save the life of his ungrateful cousin. 

The only thing that kept Sirius from charging into the Ministry and setting fire to the place was Dumbledore, who had swooped down upon Grimmauld Place in the dead of night and had said (or done) something. All Regulus or Narcissa had to do was say Sirius’ name sharply and tell him to remember what Dumbledore said and Sirius would revert from Irate Sirius into Grumpy Sirius. 

It was almost a relief when the day of the hearing Draco woke to the knowledge that no matter what happened, after today it’d be over. 

Upon entering the dining room at an ungodly hour (Draco couldn’t sleep), Draco found his mother trying to flatten Harry’s hair. It kept rebelling no matter what charm she tried or what potion she poured over his head.

“I think it is charm proof,” Sirius offered. “James could never get his under control.”

“Did he ever try?” Narcissa inquired, pressing her lips together and waving her wand once more over Harry’s head. 

Harry, for his part, was staring blankly at the table channeling a white bed sheet. 

“Good morning, Draco,” his mother greeted.

“Morning, Mother,” Draco replied. “Sirius. Harry.”

Harry grunted. Narcissa sighed deeply and sat down in her own chair. 

“Now, darling, remember do not loose your temper. Amelia Bones is a good friend and she’s very fair.”

“That she is. I cannot believe she bent—” 

“Sirius.”

Harry glanced at Sirius before staring back at the table.

As Dobby cracked into the dining room with breakfast, an owl suddenly swooped into the room and dropped an official looking letter on Sirius’s head.

“Ouch! Hey!” Sirius shouted as the owl quickly exited the room. 

Draco frowned.

Sirius cursed a blue steak for a full five minutes before he dashed out of the room. Narcissa shouted, chasing after him. Harry stared at the doorway blankly before turning his gaze towards Draco.

“Oh, god,” Draco muttered. “Fudge is doing the full court hearing. What an idiot.”

“What?”

“Potter had a full trial. First, Fudge changed the laws so you don’t have to have a warning to come in and now he’s gone and called Wizengamot.”

“What?”

“Uh…it’s a high court of law. There are fifty members and Sirius happens to hold the Black Family seat. Bet Fudge forgot that, since Sirius hasn’t shown any interest in using it or his seat on the Council of Wizards, which is the law making body. It’s got very little power these days. Mostly for show.”

Harry brightened. “So, Sirius will be present?”

Draco smirked, nodding. 

* * *

Sirius and Harry left post haste, as the trial time was within a half hour of when the owl arrived. Draco and Narcissa retired to the drawing room to wait. They were there for maybe two minutes before the doorbell rang.

“Who could that be?” Narcissa asked, looking towards the doorway. 

Dobby greeted the person, then appeared in the doorway. He bowed and said, “Miss Herminone Granger here to see Little Master.”

Draco suppressed a sigh. He’d tried to get Dobby to refer to him by his name, but it had clearly failed. 

“Show her up,” Narcissa said.

Dobby bowed once more and cracked away. A moment later he reappeared, motioning Hermione into the drawing room. She looked around, politely greeted his mother and himself and sat down. 

“What brings you here?” Draco inquired. 

“Well, today is Harry’s hearing, right?”

Draco nodded. 

“I wanted to be here for him. Where is he? Did I miss him?”

Draco filled her in on what she’d missed. When he finished he heard someone coming down the stairs.

“I heard the bell ring,” Regulus said as he entered the drawing room, dressed in proper wizarding fashion: black trousers, pressed white silk shirt, waistcoat, and an open robe. The clothes all fit Regulus perfectly, even if he looked a bit dated. His hair, though, had been updated to a style Draco recognized from the Muggle streets: messy, chaotic, and standing up straight in the front. (Harry’s hair was rather fashionable if he thought about it.) 

“Regulus Black, this is Hermione Granger, a friend of Draco’s and Harry’s,” Narcissa filled in. 

Regulus politely smiled and bowed to Hermione, who stared at Regulus wide-eyed before turning bright pink. 

“N-n-nice to meet y-y-you,” Hermione stuttered out, doing a rather awkward curtsy-bow thing. 

Narcissa looked amused while Regulus looked embarrassed. He glanced at Draco, nodded, and took the seat next to Narcissa, who handed him the morning paper. 

“Where’s Sirius?”

“Oh, he had to attend the hearing,” Narcissa said airily. “The minister saw fit to call for a full trial for a little bit of underaged magic.”

Regulus made a choking noise.

Hermione slowly sunk into the seat next to Draco on the couch. She did not remove her eyes from Regulus, who was the picture of arrogant ease, even as he stared at Narcissa. 

“Was Dumbledore informed?”

“No doubt at the last possible minute,” Narcissa replied, picking up a writing desk. She opened it and pulled out some parchment. “Why are you up so late?”

Regulus unfolded the paper in front of him and didn’t answer. The room was silent except for the rustle of newspaper and the steady scratching of a quill across parchment. Draco sunk back into the couch and eyed Hermione, who was staring at Regulus’ highly polished shoes. 

“Something you like?” Draco teased uneasily in a low tone. 

Hermione startled, blushed, and shook her head. 

“I take it you’ve never seen someone dressed in wizarding fashion like that, huh?”

“Is that wizarding fashion?”

“Usually the robe is closed, but yes. A little old fashion, but it’s what he’s comfortable in.”

“So you don’t have that on underneath?”

“No.”

“You are wearing clothes under the robe, right?”

Draco grinned, loving the fact Hermione turned beet red. She turned away from him in a huff.

“I wear Muggle clothes under my robes at home,” Draco admitted. “And I only wear the robe in the presence of Mother.”

“Should I have worn a robe?” Hermione whispered. “I dressed my best.”

Hermione was in fact dressed nicely. She was wearing a tartan skirt, a pressed blouse with a rounded collar, and little black heels. A string of pearls was around her neck completed the outfit. Draco took a deep breath and shook his head. 

“You are dressed wonderfully. And I am sure only own school robes,” Draco reminded her. 

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Oh. I never thought to buy other robes.”

Draco shrugged. “You wear Muggle clothes on the weekends like everyone else, so why would have everyday robes?”

Hermione frowned. “Some students wear robes.”

“Mostly Slytherins.”

“Some Ravenclaws.”

“No one in Gryffindor.”

“True.”

“Let’s retire to the library,” Draco said, a little louder. 

Narcissa looked up and nodded. Regulus remained behind the paper. Draco ushered Hermione out of the drawing room and up the stairs to the library. Like the last time Hermione entered the library, she gazed around with awe. Draco towed her towards the reading nook and sat down in the window seat, tugging her down next to him. 

“I have to tell you something and you’re likely not going to like it.”

“What?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s about Harry.”

“What did he do now?”

“Nothing. It was done to him when he was a baby.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “The scar?”

“Isn’t simply a scar,” Draco admitted. “We think it might be a horcrux.”

Hermione gasped. 

“Do you know what that is?”

“Something really dark,” Hermione whispered. “I’ve read quite a few books…on my own time…that I found…in a less than savory place.”

Draco stared at the witch next to him. “You went to Knockturn Alley?”

Hermione blushed again, though differently than she’d done in the drawing room. 

“Yes. Until I’m older I’ll be unable to access the restricted section without much question. I had to resort to other methods to get information,” Hermione replied. “I transfigured myself and put on a good act as a pureblood. No one bothered me.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help but be amazed by her tenacity. “You realize how dangerous that was, right?”

“He’s back, Draco. He’s back and no one knows except a few,” Hermione replied. “So, I took matters into my own hands. We have to figure out how to defeat him.” 

“Yeah. That’s going to be hard. He’s kind of immortal.”

“That’s what they do? Horcruxes? They make you immortal?”

“Per Regulus and Harry, yes. You didn’t know that?”

Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t get much, just that word and they were an object most evil. Harry knew?”

“Tom and Harry had been trying to research them since after third year. Tom knew what they were, kind of, because even at fifteen the kid was interested in living forever.”

“No.”

“What?”

“He didn’t want to live forever,” Hermione said. “I think…I think he’s scared of death.”

“What?”

“Think about it,” Hermione went on in a hushed tone. “His gang is called Death Eaters. He uses a snake and skull for his calling card. His name, Draco. His name means _flight from death_. We ought to ask Tom.”

“What? If he’s afraid of dying?”

“If he was,” Hermione corrected. “Tom is very close to immortal. He doesn’t age, he can’t die, he will live on as long as he’s got access to Addy Black’s magic.”

“Which didn’t die with her,” Draco whispered, eyes going wide.

“What?”

“Well, usually magic fails when the caster dies. Addy cast a whole lot of magic that outlasted her. It takes a lot of power to be able to do that.”

“She combined her magic with Tom’s,” Hermione reminded him. “And Tom’s…well, alive. So, his magic still feeds it. Right?”

“I guess.”

“Does all magic die when the caster dies?”

“No. If you intend for the magic to go on forever, it will, but it’s hard to cast magic that lasts forever. Because you don’t know how long forever is, right?”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“To most people, forever is simply as long as they are alive, so to make it last after you are gone takes a lot of will.” 

“Is there a book about this?”

Draco smirked. “Yes. It’s somewhere in here. I don’t know where. I read it last summer.”

Hermione looked jealous for a moment before the door to the library opened and Regulus strolled in, hands deep in his robe pockets. He smiled winningly, pulling out a familiar wooden cube. Tom poured himself out of the cube quickly, snatching it out of Regulus’ hand before stalking across the room and sitting down in his usual chair. Regulus took the chair Harry usually sat in and flopped out in a rather un-polished manner. 

“So, you’re the one who reads, right?” Regulus inquired. Hermione nodded. “Have you come upon a book that explains how one destroys horcruxes?”

Hermione shook her head.

“Told you so,” Tom muttered. “I cannot believe they called a full trial for Harry.”

“Fudge really does wish to discredit him,” Draco reminded the Not Ghost.

“Do you really think Harry’s a horcrux?” Hermione inquired, looking between Tom and Regulus. 

Tom nodded. “He’s marked. Twice. And the magic that pours out of his head is dark. Very dark.”

“Also explains why you can touch him,” Regulus said. “You and Addy shared magic. If Harry is indeed carrying a bit of Voldemort, he’s got a bit of you in him.”

Draco snickered. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. 

Tom looked thoughtful and nodded. “Yes. Not that I like the thing in his head.”

Tom shuddered.

“Still hate yourself I see.”

“He is not me.”

Regulus put his hands up in defeat. 

“He is not,” Tom insisted a little weakly. 

“I would agree with Tom,” Hermione said. “They are not similar in the least right now. Nor would they have been when Tom was…created.”

“Born,” Tom corrected. “I prefer born.”

“Born, then,” Hermione conceded while Regulus rolled his eyes deeply. “Tom, uh, before you were…born, when you were alive, did you fear death?”

“Yes.”

There was no pause, no need to think on it. Draco studied Tom, who was looking at Hermione as if she were a professor who was about to teach him something important. 

“That’s why you knew about horcruxes, correct?”

Tom nodded. “I knew what they were, but at the time I was…trapped in the sketchbook, I had been unable to figure out what was entailed to creating one.”

“Where’d you get the information?”

“The Restricted Section,” Tom answered, once more without pause. “Those books are no longer there.”

“Did Dumbledore pull them?” Hermione asked.

Regulus and Tom both shook their heads. 

“Dumbledore knew of them, but never read them. They vanished at some point, as when he went looking in the 1970s, they weren’t there,” Regulus explained.

“We think Voldemort stole them,” Tom added. 

“But, do you know how now to destroy them?”

“Baskilsk venom,” the three males charmed in together. 

“It’d destroy anything,” Hermione whispered. “It is likely that anything that would destroy anything would be able to destroy a horcrux.”

The boys all nodded. 

“But, since Harry’s friends with the snake, I doubt we’d need to figure out what else would destroy them. Medusa would do anything Harry asked of her,” Tom reminded them.  

“What were the others you’ve already found besides Harry?” Hermione inquired. 

“There were two others besides the diary you all had the misfortune to come across your second year. Dumbledore destroyed both of them once he knew the fang would do the job.” 

“So, three down,” Hermione said, looking pensive and tapping her bottom lip with her index finger. She shook her head and then went back to writing in a Muggle notebook she’d made appear out of thin air at some point. She looked up to find the boys staring and tutted. “He made seven, right?”

“How’d you guess that?” Draco asked. “I haven’t told you that theory yet.”

“It’s a magical number. And the lighting bolt scar? It’s reflected sevens, right?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah. How’d you even—” 

“Voldemort likes stuff like that. We learned about numbers and their magical properties in Airthmancy. Out of all the numbers, seven is the strongest magical number. It reinforced that random lecture Atlanta gave us during third year. Remember?”

“No,” Draco faintly admitted. 

Hermione shook her head. 

“I like her,” Regulus commented, smiling a little sadly. He looked back at Tom before he could see Hermione blush. “So, Tom, think of a better way than shooting Harry with the Killing Curse or stabbing him in the forehead with a poisonous fang to rid him of the horcrux?”

Tom pressed his too red lips together and folded his arms across his see through chest. 

“I take that as a no,” Regulus muttered. 

“The Killing Curse,” Hermione mumbled, wearing her Deep Thoughts Face. “That’s how he became one!”

“It destroys life.”

Hermione shook her head. “You cannot kill a soul. You have to destroy it. Shooting Harry wouldn’t work. Stabbing him in the head…”

“We are not stabbing me in the head!” Harry loudly announced, standing in the doorway to the library. “What is wrong with you people?”

“Harry,” Tom said, standing up quickly. He forgot his block in the chair in his haste to get to Harry. Luckily, Harry was solid to Tom, so Tom didn’t go right through him like he did most people, nor did he suddenly go through anything else once Harry grabbed onto him. “What happened?”

Harry grinned. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Draco echoed faintly. “So, like last time, you got off?”

“Dumbledore proved there was indeed a dementor, thus I acted within the law,” Harry reported, still holding onto Tom’s arm. 

“How?” Hermione asked. “If it was only you and your cousin…”

“Mrs Figg,” Harry snorted. “The old lady who used to torture me with cats as a kid is a Squib. She was there, she might not have actually seen one, but you cannot fake feeling one.”

“Muggles can’t see them, but they can feel them,” Tom whispered, his free hand coming up to grip Harry’s other arm. He forced Harry turn turn to face him. 

“Were you worried?” Harry asked, eyes scanning Tom’s face (which Draco couldn’t see as his back to him). 

Tom did not get to refute it, due to the arrival of a joyous Sirius Black bearing a hug keg of butterbeer. 

* * *

Later, when it was just Hermione, Draco, Harry, and Tom alone in the attic, Harry told them about the trial. 

“Fudge really wanted to expel me. Like he kept trying to bring up past things I’d gotten up to whilst at school and the other instance when I performed magic out side of school.”

Draco nodded. 

“Tom, how is Atlanta?” Hermione suddenly asked. 

Tom sat up straighter. He wasn’t actually sitting with the group in the cleared center of the attic, but was hovering near the purple stain that seemed to fascinate people. 

“She’s finally come out of her room,” Tom reported flatly. His face shifted a little and he floated closer till he became more solid as he neared the block sitting near Harry’s thigh. “I’m concerned.”

Harry shot Tom a look Draco couldn’t read. 

“Understandable,” Hermione soothed. “Voldemort put her through quite a bit. Is there worry that Voldemort can find her?”

Tom nodded. “Lupin is besides himself. No one is sure how she and Voldemort are really linked. I’m more concerned…for her state of mind.”

“What do you mean?”

Tom pressed his lips together, stared over his shoulder at the purple stain before he said, “She came to my room the other day. It was the first time she exited her room since she came home from school. She…she was very strange. Her accent all over the place and her eyes kept changing color too often for it to be a trick of the light when I contemplated it later.”

Tom swallowed and looked at Harry briefly before pressing on. 

“She thinks she is a danger because…of Calliope Riddle. And after her act in my room the other day, I’m sure I met Calliope Riddle.”

“You met Calliope Riddle?” Draco faintly asked. “What do you mean?

“I think her control on keeping Calliope and Atlanta balanced is breaking down now that Voldemort has returned. Should Calliope get full control, she will return to Voldemort given the chance. I fear.” 

“But she must know Riddle is evil,” Hermione reasoned. 

“Oh, Calliope knows, but Calliope loves her brother.”

Harry looked as if he was unable to process this information, but Draco understood. Tom looked at him for help. 

“It makes sense,” Draco said, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I loved my father.”

“You don’t any longer?”

“I still do, just differently. The first time around, I was desperate for him to love me in return, so I went out of my way to impress him, to be him, to be what he wanted. This time around, I have the benefit of hindsight. I know that there is nothing I can do to earn that love in the manner I wish for.”

Harry frowned.

“Calliope has never had to learn this lesson. To Calliope, her brother loves her in a twisted sense,” Tom explained. “Atlanta knows he can’t love her, but Calliope really does not grasp this, nor will she once Atlanta is gone.”

“How would Atlanta be fully gone?”

“Voldemort, if he gets his hands on her. He’s much better at magic than he was when he first performed the spell,” Tom explained. “But, even if he doesn’t, I fear she might loose the battle. She’s struggling now to hold the grasp on the two personalities. Calliope might be the stronger of the pair.”

“She’s better equipped to deal with this mess,” Hermione whispered, eyes wide. She looked surprised at the faces each boy was giving her. “What? She is. Calliope was created by Voldemort. She’s controlled and cunning. She’s basically what he’d be if he wasn’t soulless.”

“What are we going to do?” Harry asked, looking helplessly at Tom. 

“Kill him?” Draco suggested. 

Harry gave him a look. 

“We really need to figure out what the prophecy is,” Hermione muttered. 

“It’s a fixed point. We’ll have to wait till summer,” Draco reminded her. 

“So, till then, what will we do?” Harry asked. “We could try to help Atlanta now. How can we help her?” 

“Hope that Lupin decides to home school Atlanta,” Tom suggested. 

“What?” Harry asked.

“He’s seriously considering it,” Tom admitted. “I think he should. She’d be very protected in Park Quad and under the care of someone who knows about her…mind.”

“You can’t lock someone away,” Hermione firmly said, giving Tom a dark look. “And Hogwarts is safe. Dumbledore is there.”

“He lost her once,” Tom snapped. Harry put a hand on Tom’s shoulder. Tom ground his teeth, but settled and took a few deep breath. “You’re right. I have no doubt that Voldemort will try to kidnap her while she’s within the walls of Hogwarts. But she might leave if Calliope gets too much control over her.”

“When?”

“Hogsmeade,” Draco realized. “One of us should always be with her when she goes into the village.”

“Good thinking.”

“I’m starving. Let’s go be kids. We’ve got a few weeks left before school starts and we have to face Umbridge.”

“Urg,” Harry grumbled. “She’s a total pink toad.”

“Harry!” Hermione scolded. 

“No, she is! She was at the hearing. She seriously looks…demented.”

“Demented? Really, Harry,” Hermione sighed.

“She is kind of evil,” Draco reminded her. “I mean, I liked her last time, but I’ve got a feeling this time around we’re not going to be friends.” 

“You didn’t like her. You just like the fact she allowed you to prance around the school like a pounce,” Hermione said, smirking at Draco. 

Harry snorted. 

“I hate you both,” Draco lied, turning on his heel and stalking downstairs. 


	6. A Stinky Start

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Hermione went home that evening, leaving Draco and Harry on their own for the remainder of the holidays. Harry and Draco explored the attic further, sometimes with Tom floating along or Regulus helping identify dangerous objects. Sirius kept the boys up to date on the ongoings of the Order, but it was rather anticlimactic. Voldemort was still in hiding and hadn’t made a move on the prophecy. Or done much of anything. 

On the very last day of the holidays, the book lists arrived.

“Waiting till the last minute,” Harry grumbled ripping the envelope open. “Don’t they usually come earlier so we can go get our books?”

“Well, I sure Dumbledore knew Umbridge would be the DADA professor, thus tried to find one that wasn’t her,” Draco replied, fiddling around with the CD player Atlanta had given to him first year. He had gathered a small collection of CDs since he’d gotten it as he’d discovered he had a liking for something the Muggles called alternative rock. However, the past few days the player had been on the fitz, something in the spell work shorting out whenever he tried to play it in the house. 

“Bah. _Defensive Magical Theory_ , by Wilbert Slinkhard. God, he even sounds boring,” Harry muttered. “Here. Open yours. It feels thicker than mine.”

Draco froze, slowly looking up at the extended envelope.

“Why? Why would it be thicker?”

“I don’t know. We don’t have a Quidditch Captain, as Oliver graduated two years ago. Maybe it’s that?”

“I don’t play,” Draco reminded him. 

“But you will, right?”

“Isn’t the only open spot the Keeper?”

“Well, yeah.”

“No.”

“Fine. Well, open it.”

Draco slowly opened the envelope and watched as the patch fell out, along with another letter than the usual two. Draco picked the patch up, studying the gold and scarlet embroidering. 

“So, you’re a prefect?”

“It seems so,” Draco faintly agreed. “I don’t understand.”

Harry snorted. “Really?”

“You…you…you…”

“Have too much on my plate, mate,” Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You, on the other hand, are a little adult. Perfect prefect.”

Draco frowned.

“Weren’t you one last time?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“But…but…”

“I bet Hermione was made one for Ravenclaw.”

“Oh, god. Who is the girl prefect for Gryffindor?” Draco asked. “It’d be either Lavender or Parvati.”

Both Draco and Harry made a face.

“We should let your mum know. She’ll want to fawn over your great achievement,” Harry suggested, giving Draco one last shake before letting go. “Oh, and Sirius so he can mock you for being an authority figure.”

Draco rolled his eyes. 

* * *

Sirius did indeed mock and Narcissa fawned. Hermione confirmed via their charmed parchment she’d been made prefect for Ravenclaw. Draco went to bed that night and dreamed of strange things that made little or no sense and awoke the next morning feeling tired. Harry didn’t look any better. 

“Did you not sleep well?” Draco inquired over breakfast.

Harry shook his head. “No. Kept dreaming about this never ending hallway. And…”

“And what?”

Harry never answered as Sirius burst into the room, singing some made up song about Gryffindor prefects. 

“He’s the only prefect here!” Harry shouted over Sirius’ noise. 

Sirius only stopped singing when Narcissa hexed him silent. 

The rest of the morning was lost in getting ready to leave. Unlike last year, they weren’t running behind due to the reappearance of someone they all thought dead, nor did they loose Harry’s broom, yet Draco still felt like they were pressed for time. 

“It’ll be a long trip,” Sirius proclaimed. “We’re not going by magic.”

“Why ever not?” Narcissa inquired as they stood by the front door surrounded by their things.

“Well, it’s a lovely day for a walk,” Sirius replied, throwing the door open to reveal an old woman that looked unfamiliar. She had tightly curled grey hair and had a purple hat on shaped like a porkpie. “Hello, Granny.”

“Sirius,” said a tired sounding voice. “Wotcher, Harry.”

“Tonks?” Harry asked. 

The woman smiled and tipped her hat. She looked over Harry’s head and her smile grew, “Hi, Aunt Cissy!”

“Dora,” Nacrissa greeted. “I see you took lessons on how to dress like a Muggle.”

“Of course. Auror’s all do. Plus, Dad’s a big help.”

The old woman grinned, showing of an array of strange looking teeth. They looked a little too perfect and square. 

“Draco, this is your cousin Nymphadora.”

“Please don’t call me that,” the woman moaned.

“It’s a lovely name,” Narcissa insisted.

The woman sighed. “Just call me Tonks.”

“She goes by her surname,” Sirius whispered loudly. “Let’s go. We’ve got our guard.”

“I still don’t understand why we’re walking,” Narcissa grumbled, shutting the door behind her after they’d gotten the trunks out.

“We’re not walking,” Tonks said. “I got us a car.”

“You can drive?” Sirius asked, running down the stairs to the waiting forest green car. “Wow.”

He pressed his face to the window like a child. Narcissa sighed. 

It took almost ten minutes to get Sirius into the car Tonks had finagled from somewhere and another twenty to actually drive the short distance to the station. Draco, who’d never ridden in an automobile before, was fascinated. 

“I love Muggle transport,” Sirius sighed. 

“Me too,” Draco breathed. 

Sirius looked mildly surprised.

“I’ve been telling you for years. Muggles might be slower, but their way of traveling is way more comfortable,” Harry commented as he helped Tonks load the trunks onto the carts. “Though, that car had some magic, as it accommodated all of us easily and in the Muggle world I’m pretty sure four of us across the backseat would not have worked.”

Tonk grinned and wheeled the cart towards the station, the rest of the group trailing behind her. While they walked, Draco picked out a few more Order members lurking in the crowd. 

They went through the gate and came out on the other side. Tonk pushed the cart towards the train and helped Harry and Draco load the trunks onto the train. (Sirius would have helped but he was overrun with wizards who wanted to talk to him and witches who wanted to flirt with him (ha ha ha).) Harry stood in the doorway of the train with a bemused expression on his face while Sirius attempted to free himself from the crowd. 

“Some things don’t change,” came a horse, yet quiet voice. 

Draco startled to find Remus and Atlanta Lupin standing behind him. Atlanta looked weary, sleep deprived, and too thin. She’d also shot up again and was almost as tall as Draco,who had measured himself and he was almost six foot two. He was not that tall last time he was sure. It must be a side affect of time travel to be taller, as Atlanta hadn’t been as tall the first time around either. The last time Draco had seen Addy Black, she was the same height as him: five foot nine. Neither of them were currently five foot nine. 

“They can’t tell he’s…not interested?” Draco carefully inquired.

Not taking his eyes off Sirius, Lupin said, “They see what they want.”

“I’m getting on the train, Dad,” Atlanta announced, a hint more American in her accent than usual. “You are not getting on the train.”

Lupin gave her an exasperated look and she grinned, swinging onto the train through a doorway not blocked by Harry Potter. 

“You’ll look after her, won’t you?” Lupin asked, casting his sad amber eyes at Draco. 

“Of course,” Draco said. “We all are. Tom spoke to us.”

Lupin looked relieved. “Thank you. Be careful, though. Both of you.”

Lupin gazed upwards towards Harry, who smile and nodded.

“REMUS!” Sirius bellowed, above the train whistle blowing to signal it was high time for the students to get on the train. “REMUS!”

Lupin looked as if he was about to Apparate on the spot, but Narcissa grabbed his sleeve and held him in place. 

“Mr Lupin, we’ve not seen you all summer,” she said as Sirius fought tooth and nail to get away from the society witch who’d cornered him. 

“I thought it best to remain…”

“On the down low?” Sirius asked,appearing in front of Lupin wearing a smile that threatened to spilt his face apart.

Lupin stared at Sirius as if he wasn’t sure if Sirius was a little bit mad.  

“I doubt he needs the _four-one-one_ , Sirius,” Draco drawled before hopping up onto the stairs. He pushed Harry up. Harry shouted his goodbyes while Draco waved.

“Four-one-one?” he heard his mother bewilderedly ask.

Draco explained to Harry he had to go to the prefect carriage, but he’d find Harry later. Harry nodded, waving him off and heading off to find a seat. Draco headed for the prefect carriage. Sure enough, upon entering he spotted Hermione. He sat down next to her, ignoring the glare from the Ravenclaw male prefect on Hermione’s other side. 

“Last time?” Hermione asked, indicating with her head to Weasley, a silver and green perfect badge pinned to his robes. 

“Yes,” Draco answered.

Hermione looked as if she wasn’t sure what to make of the information that Weasley and she had been the Gryffindor prefects. Draco was wondering who, between Lavender and Parvati, was the female prefect for Gryffindor. His question was answered when Parvati Patel burst into the carriage five-seconds after the Head Boy and Girl began to give instructions. 

“You’re late,” the Head Boy snapped. “Ten points from Gryffindor. Not on form. Not at all.”

Parvati scowled and sat down. She didn’t even realize she’d sat down next to Weasley when there was a seat next to the Hufflepuff perfects. 

“I get the feeling she doesn’t want to be here,” Draco whispered to Hermione.

Hermione shook her head. “Her sister gave me the evilest look on the platform. I think she wanted to be a prefect and is jealous of her sister.”

“Ah, siblings,” Draco joked, exchanging ironic looks with Hermione.

The meeting rolled out as it had last time and soon enough Draco was on his way to find Harry with Hermione, leaving the male prefect for Ravenclaw to deal with Patel. He did not look as if he minded. They found Harry in a carriage with Atlanta, Neville, Luna, and Ginny. Luna was reading the _Quibbler_ upside down while wearing huge, strange looking glasses. Ginny and Atlanta were both playing Exploding Snap, while Neville was tending to some bizarre plant. From the state of the carriage, the plant had exploded pus at some point and no one had cleaned it up very well. Draco set to righting that.

“Oh, Draco,” Ginny said, snapping to attention as the pile of pus next to her elbow turned into a perfectly clean bit of table. “You’re a prefect?”

“Yes. What happened in here?” Draco asked, pointing his wand at various areas where pus was lurking.

“Neville’s mimbustortulla exploded,” Ginny answered. Atlanta snorted, hiding behind her long, curly raven hair. 

“ _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ ,” Neville corrected, looking a little sheepish. “It was a little…I hadn’t tried it before…I didn’t know it’d explode Stinksap.”

“Cho Chang showed up too. Just as we were all covered in Stinksap,” Ginny cheerily reported, looking at Harry. 

Harry’s cheeks went a little pink. “She just wanted to say hi.”

“She wanted more than that, but you were covered in stinky pus,” Atlanta giggled. “Ginny cleaned us up.”

“I guess I missed some of the pus.”

“Sap. It is Stinksap, not pus,” Neveille grumbled, holding the plant closer to his chest.

“You got most of it,” Hermione soothed. “Draco’s picky about his environment.”

“He’s a neat freak,” Harry whispered loudly. 

“I am not.”

“Are too,” Harry whispered again. “You missed the food trolly. I got you some stuff.”

“We were gone that long?” Hermione asked, sitting down next to Luna. 

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Luna said dreamily, smiling vaguely and going back to her magazine. “Or you got hit by some Nargles.”

“I love Nargles,” Draco commented.

“I know,” Luna agreed. 

“So, who were the prefects for the other houses?” Harry asked, ripping open a Chocolate Frog. 

“Hufflepuff is Ernie Macmillian and Hannah Abbot,” Hermione started, “Slytherin is Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson, and Ravenclaw’s other prefect is Anthony Goldstien.”

“What about Gryffindor?” Atlanta asked.

“Patil,” Draco answered.

Atlanta snickered. “Bet that upset her sister.”

“Padma really wished to be one,” Luna said. “She so hates Hermione.”

Hermione turned pink and began talking about classes. She continued talking nonstop till the compartment door slid open to reveal their all time favorite idiot: Theodore Nott.

“So, two prefects? What will you ever do?” Nott taunted.

“I don’t know? Give you loads of points off? Have Slytherin start in the negatives?” Draco asked. 

“Draco,” Hermione hissed.

“Why, Potter, how are you handling this? Draco was made prefect over you? Dumbledore’s favorite? How on earth will you ever survive?”

“Swimmingly,” Harry replied. “Hey, Nev, stab it.”

Neville looked rather surprised, but stabbed his plant with his wand and it exploded. 

All over Nott’s face.

“I’d get out before we do that again,” Draco said.

Nott sputtered, stating he’d tell his father, but left before Neville could stab his plant again. Draco cleaned up the sap that was still on the door, then sat down, laughing. 

“You shouldn’t abuse your plant,” Luna said. “Though, Nott will get his due as he’s rubbish at cleaning charms.” 

The rest of the ride passed pleasantly till Draco and Hermione had to go do prefect duty by wrangling students. Draco forgot how long the day was when he had to deal with getting second years to the carriages for the first time and watching for idiots who were pulling pranks. By the time everyone was in a carriage, Draco wanted to forgo the feast and just go to bed.

“Oh, cheer up. It’ll be fun to patrol this year, won’t it?”

“Whenever will you have the time?” Draco drawled as the prefect’s carriage (containing besides Draco and Hermione, Patil and Goldstien) rolled towards the school. 

“Don’t you know, I make time,” Hermione snarked, grinning.

Draco had to contain himself not to laugh as hard as he wanted to at that quip. 

 


	7. Waffling and No Shouting

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Sitting down at the Gryffindor table, Draco glanced at Harry. He did a double take when he noted how white and confused Harry appeared.  ****

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked, sharply, wondering now who’d upset the Boy Who Wouldn’t Stop Trying to Die.

“I forgot about the horses,” Harry whispered, glancing at Finnigan, who was looking anywhere but at Harry. Draco glanced at Dean Thomas, who smiled uncomfortably. 

“Yes,” Draco answered factually. “Threstrals. Only those who have witnessed death can see them.”

Finnigan looked startled, while Thomas sighed in relief. 

“I can see them,” Draco stated for the benefit of their evesdroppers. Finnigan was staring and Draco couldn’t exactly say who he’d seen die, so he lied and said, “My great aunt died before me.”

Draco had enough great aunts that died in his early life, it was believable he witnessed the death of one. And the topic was morbid enough, no one would ask for further information.

Harry did not appear to have bought child Draco witnessing the death of any one, but Finnigan and Thomas both did as they went back to chatting between themselves as the Great Hall filled. Neville sat down across from Harry, Ginny and Atlanta filling the spot where Hermione usually sat. Looking almost as if he was doing something that should end in his death, Colin Creevy sat down on Harry’s free side.

“Hi ya, Harry,” Colin proclaimed loudly before as McGonagall entered with a line of scared first years. Harry gave Colin a lopsided smile. 

Draco scanned the table as McGonagall explained the sorting. Umbridge was there in all her pink toad glory (seriously, why did she think those huge bows looked good?). Missing was Hagrid, still off doing whatever Dumbledore had sent him off to do over the summer. The teacher who was actually a bit better at professing was in Hagrid’s usual spot. 

McGonagall placed the hat on the stool and waited. 

And waited.

She glanced in alarm at Dumbledore who sighed and rolled his eyes a little. 

“Give him time,” Dumbledore assured. 

McGonagall pressed her lips together and looked as if she wished to issue Sherlock the Sorting Hat a detention. Suddenly, the hat shook itself, stood up tall (if possible), and the tear in the brim opened wide and Sherlock began to sing. 

 

_In times of old, when I was new,_   
_And Hogwarts barely started,_   
_The founders of our noble school_   
_Thought never to be parted._

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning_   
_To make the world's best magic school_   
_And pass along their learning._

_"Together we will build and teach"_   
_The four good friends decided._   
_And never did they dream that they_   
_Might someday be divided._

_For were there such friends anywhere_  
_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_  
 _Unless it was the second pair_  
 _Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_   
_How could such friendships fail?_   
_Why, I was there, so I can tell_   
_The whole sad, sorry tale._

_Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those_   
_Whose magic’s the purest."_   
_Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose_   
_Intelligence is surest."_   
_Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those_   
_With brave deeds to their name."_   
_Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot_

_And treat them just the same."  
_

_These differences caused little strife_   
_When first they came to light._   
_For each of the four founders had_   
_A house in which they might_   
_Take only those they wanted, so,_

_For instance, Slytherin_   
_Took only the most magical wizards_   
_Of great cunning just like him._

_And only those of sharpest mind_   
_Were taught by Ravenclaw_

_While the bravest and the boldest  
Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest_   
_and taught them all she knew,_   
_Thus, the houses and their founders_   
_Maintained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_  
 _for several happy years,_  
 _but then discord crept among us_  
 _feeding on our faults and fears._  
  
_The Houses that, like pillars four_  
 _had once held up our school_  
 _now turned upon each other and_  
 _divided, sought to rule._  
  
_And for a while it seemed the school_  
 _must meet an early end._  
 _what with dueling and with fighting_  
 _and the clash of friend on friend._  
  
_And at last there came a morning_  
 _when old Slytherin departed_  
 _and though the fighting then died out_  
 _he left us quite downhearted._  
  
_And never since the founders four_  
 _were whittled down to three_  
 _have the Houses been united_  
 _as they once were meant to be._  
  
_And now the Sorting Hat is here_  
 _and you all know the score:_  
 _I sort you into Houses_  
 _because that is what I'm for._  
  
_But this year I'll go further,_  
 _listen closely to my song:_  
 _though condemned I am to split you_  
 _still I worry that it's wrong,_  
  
_Though I must fulfill my duty_  
 _and must quarter every year_  
 _still I wonder whether sorting_  
 _may not bring the end I fear._  
  
_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_  
 _the warning history shows,_  
 _for our Hogwarts is in danger_  
 _from external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_   
_or we'll crumble from within_   
_I have told you, I have warned you..._   
_let the Sorting now begin._

Sherlock went silent, yet seemed somehow smug. Draco instantly began clapping, yet he was the only one. He stopped after a moment, looking around with feigned confusion. Everyone was muttering and whispering. Draco glanced back at Sherlock, who was channeling a hat. There was no longer a smug air to him at all. 

Dumbledore began to clap, which led to a smattering of applause, Draco joining in once more. 

“Is that normal?” Harry inquired.

Draco nodded. “Sherlock warns us in times of strife to stick together. Though, this time he left out Slytherin being a pure-blood maniac. I guess he pays attention to current events.”

“Didn’t the Founders make him, so wouldn’t he know?”

“It was a long time ago. He might have forgotten?” Draco tried, shrugging. “He is a hat.” 

McGonagall’s voice rang out above the muttering, thus silencing the entire hall.

“ABERCOMBIE, EUAN.”

A terrified looking boy stumbled forward and Sherlock ate his head. A moment later Sherlock shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The line of scared first years slowly shortened till with one last shout, “Zeller, Rose” sorted into Hufflepuff. McGonagall snatched Sherlock the Sorting Hat up and stormed off, looking as if she was giving the hat a stern talking to. Dumbledore rose and cleared his throat. 

“To our newcomers, welcome! And to our old hands, welcome back!” Dumbledore greeted, beaming a smile and opening his arms wide. “There will be time for speech making later, so tuck in!”

There was an appreciative noise from the room at large and the food appeared on the golden platters. 

“Has Sherlock given many warnings?” Atlanta demanded. 

Draco glanced at her in question as he helped himself to some pumpkin juice. She looked…stern. And in the candlelight her eyes flashed a little too blue. She was sitting up so straight Draco was sure there was a rod down her back. It looked completely unnatural. 

“I believe he has given several over the school’s lifetime,” Draco answered. “I don’t know all the details.”

“I do,” Nearly Headless Nick sang out, appearing out of the platter of vegetables. Thomas made a face and snatched his hand away from the platter. “I have heard several warnings since I’ve been around. They always come at times of great strife. The warnings are always the same. Stand together, stay strong from within.”

“It wants House unity. That is good. Exactly what he doesn’t want,” Atlanta stated, giving Nearly Headless Nick a piercing look. It was a strange look and Draco had never seen her look at anyone that way before. Glancing at Ginny, Draco knew he wasn’t alone in thinking Atlanta was acting a strange. Her eyes closed and her body sagged a little. When she opened her eyes back up, she was seated more naturally. She looked a little confused. “What?”

“You’re acting weird,” Ginny bluntly stated. 

Atlanta snorted. “Sure.”

“What do you mean, he wouldn’t want house unity?” Nearly Headless Nick asked. “You did mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, correct?”

“Yes,” Atlanta answered. “Well, he doesn’t exactly like it when we all get along. He, erm…”

“He breeds uncertainty,” Draco said. “Like he’s been doing all summer.” 

“This is such cheery dinner conversation,” Harry muttered. “How about we talk about Quidditch?”

Ginny latched onto the topic and she, Neville, Colin, and Harry spent the rest of the feast merrily talking about whatever was going on in the sport. Draco, who loved Quidditch, spent the meal quietly watching Atlanta. 

She behaved normally. Well, normal for Atlanta Lupin. 

After dessert vanished from the plates, Dumbledore stood up. A hush fell over the hall. Dumbledore ran through the usual items (don’t go into the Forbidden Forest, Finch has the list of illegal things, etc), then introduced the Hagrid stand in, and finally Umbridge. And like last time, he moved on but fell silent at the little cough ( _“Hem, hem”_ ). Dumbledore turned his head slowly, looking confused. The professors were all various forms of outraged at a fellow professor (and a new one at that) interrupting the headmaster. 

All Umbridge did was clear her throat again. 

Harry glanced at Draco who put his finger to his lips as Dumbledore slowly sank into his seat. 

“Thank you, Headmaster for those kind words of welcome,” Umbridge started, then gave another throat clearing cough. She gave a smile to show off her very pointy teeth and went on, “It’s wonderful to be back at Hogwarts again! And to see such happy faces looking back at me!”

Draco wasn’t sure who she thought was looking at her, as the student population was staring at her as if she were a two headed dragon. 

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know each and every one of you,” Umbridge simpered at the students as if they were all five-year-olds. “I am sure we’ll all be very good friends!” 

The population began to mutter. Lavender made a remark about the fluffy cardigan, while someone behind Draco said something that made several people giggle. 

Umbridge cleared her throat again. _“Hem, hem.”_

Dumbledore gave the students a look and silence fell. 

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance,” Umbridge began. “The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction.”

Draco glanced over at the Ravenclaw table and saw Hermione listening with rapt attention. Feeling that she’d listen for him, Draco zoned out. He knew he wasn’t the only one, as Luna had _The Quibbler_ out again, Ernie MacMillian appeared glassy eyed, and Nott was making faces at someone. Draco wasn’t sure who Nott thought he was making faces at, as Harry’s back to was to him and none of his fellow Slytherins were paying attention to him. Clapping snapped Draco out of his wandering thoughts on Nott. While the professors all clapped (some only twice), only a few students joined in. 

“Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,” Dumbledore said, bowing to her. “Now— as I was staying, Quidditch tryouts will be held in a few weeks. Please see your House captain for the dates.”

“Did you listen?” Harry whispered while Dumbledore talked.

“No. Hermione did.”

Harry nodded. “I’ve got Tom.”

“I bet he listened, didn't he?”

“Of course he did,” came a voice from Harry’s pocket.

Luckily the voice coincided with the dismissal of the students. Draco rolled his eyes while Harry slapped his hand over his pocket in hopes of containing his wayward Not Ghost companion. 

“I’ve got to show the first years where to go,” Draco explained to Harry. “I’ll meet you in the dormitory.”

Harry nodded and joined Neville. Draco waited for Patil before commandingly saying, “This way, please, first years!”

The group of new Gryffindors all stared at him wide eyed. Euan Abercrombie looked utterly petrified.

“He doesn’t bite,” Patil assured. “Let’s go.”

She urged on the students. Draco ran through the spiel on the Common Room, House rules, and other things. By the time he finished they were at the painting and he gave the first years the password. 

“Girls follow me, boys follow Malfoy,” Patil announced when they entered.

Draco led the new Gyrffindor boys to the new first year dormitory, then headed down to the fifth year boys room. He entered to find Harry seated on his bed, twiddling his thumbs while Neville, Finnigan, and Thomas all got ready for bed. Draco stood in the doorway for a moment before shutting the door, allowing the noise to announce him.  

“Hello, Draco,” Neville said pleasantly. “You don’t think Harry’s mental, do you?”

Harry looked over at Draco, wearing a clearly mental expression on his face. Draco sighed, glancing at Thomas and Finnigan. Thomas appeared as if he wished to be elsewhere while Finnigan was angry.

“You know what?” Finnigan said heatedly, casting a venomous look at Harry. “I don’t want to share a dorm room with you. You’re a madman.”

“Takes one to know one,” was the very mature comeback Harry used.

“Finnigan!” Draco snapped. 

“Don’t tell me you believe him. You believe all that rubbish about You-Know-Who? You reckon he’s telling the truth?”

“Of course,” Draco simply stated. “Have you ever known Harry to lie?”

Thomas glanced over at Finnigan. Finnigan appeared as if he was going to say that Harry did in fact lie left and right. Instead he simply got into bed and ripped the hangings on his bed so hard they fell off, landing in a dusty pile. Finnigan made an angry noise, then stormed into the toilet, slamming the door. Thomas got out his wand and fixed the hangings. 

“His mum’s been at him all summer,” Thomas explained, mostly to Draco. “She believes the stuff they write in the _Daily Prophet._ ”

“My gran cancelled that piece of rubbish,” Neville offered. “Gran always said You-Know-Who would be back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he’s back, then he’s back.”

Neville smiled, then went back to gazing lovingly at his moonlit cactus. 

Thomas looked unsure what to do, so he got ready for bed, closed his curtains, and fell silent. Draco went over to Harry’s bed and sat down. 

“Did you snap at him?” Draco asked in a low voice.

Harry gave Draco a cutting look. “No. I just went along with the crazy thing for a while. Made him madder.”

“Harry.”

“What? Everyone thinks I’m crazy anyway.”

“Doesn’t meant you encourage it.”

“What did you want me to do? Get mad?”

“Well, no.”

“I know I’m not unhinged. And at some point, everyone will know I’m right,” Harry said, shrugging. “I wanted to get mad, shout and stuff, but acting silly kind of helped. I’m not angry. Kind of depressed, though. Tomorrow’s gonna suck.”  

Draco scratched his forehead as the toilet door opened and Finnigan stomped over to his bed. He got in, closed the bed hangings, and silence draped the room. 

“In the end they’ll know I’m right,” Harry whispered. “And…a part of me kind of wishes they all could enjoy the next Voldemort Free Year they’re going to have, as next summer he’ll be public.” 

“Night,” Neville cheerily said, vanishing behind his bed hangings.

“Night,” Draco replied with Harry. Harry moved from the center of the bed and Draco swung his legs up as he began to cast silencing charms. Harry drew the hangings shut. The moment they were shut, Tom poured himself out of Harry’s pocket.

No matter how many times Draco witnessed this happen, it was still disturbing. 

“That was below you, Potter,” Tom snapped. 

“Potter would have shouted a lot more,” Harry returned. “I didn’t loose it. It was good practice for Umbridge’s class. She’s gonna try to get a rise out of me no doubt. Can’t take that bait.” 

Tom looked annoyed. 

“So, what did Umbridge say in all that waffle?” Draco asked, staring at Tom and wishing for once he looked less than perfect.

Tom turned to Draco. “The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts.”

“So, basically she said nothing? For fifteen whole minutes?” Harry asked.

“She used a lot of words to say that the Ministry is going to be handling your schooling and will control it. It will start with DADA this year and in another lifetime will move onto other subjects. I have a feeling Umbridge has a dream.”

“A dream of little school children all following her Ministry approved learning material,” Draco snorted. “Yeah. There’ll be incompetent wizards all over the place if that happens.”

“It won’t, so we best not worry,” Tom shrugged. “I think the best way to deal with her is to do as she says.”

“Oh man, DADA is going to be horrible,” Harry said, flopping backwards. 

“Didn’t Potter get in trouble often his fifth year?” Tom asked, turning his attention to Draco.

“Yes. I think he lived in detention. He also was banned from Quidditch for life and Umbridge took his broom.”

Tom nodded. “Don’t do any of the things Potter did.”

“What did he do? I mean, exactly do besides lots of shouting.”

“Well, first day of class he shouted at Umbridge that Voldemort was alive. He actually did this a few times. And he got banned from Quidditch for…well, it was my fault actually. I was a sore loser.”

“Okay, well, you’re not going to be playing—”

“But, Nott will be.”

“Oh, yeah. Fine. I will be the bigger person. And not pick fights.”

Draco and Tom exchanged looks.

“What?” Harry challenged. “What was that for?”

“How did you wind up in trouble this past summer?” Draco asked.

Harry frowned. “I got into an argument with Tom and stormed off. But I was already going out.”

“No, you picked a fight with Dudley,” Draco corrected. “If you hadn’t done so, he wouldn’t have been with you when the dementors attacked.”

“Then…”

“Then you wouldn’t have done magic in font of a Muggle.”

“Bah,” Harry groaned, falling backwards. “I’ll keep my temper in check. But, I’m still getting under her skin. We’ve got to make sure she is gone at the end of the year.”

Draco smirked. “Oh, she will. You won’t be the only student who will be plotting her demise.” 


	8. Umbridge's First Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I've yet to say this, as I've just been blindly (yet happily) posting, thanks for all the reviews and kudos! Also, I am my own worst beta reader, so any errors you find and point out will be fixed as I honestly missed them. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

“Is he going to be like this all year?” Harry tiredly asked as the door slammed in the dormitory signaling Finnigan’s departure the next morning. 

“No,” Draco assured. “Soon he’ll realize nutter isn’t contagious.”

Harry snorted. 

“You know it’s just…well, his Mum…she’s a witch,” Dean Thomas tried to explain, hoisting his school bag into his shoulder. 

“So’s Aunt Narcissa,” Harry muttered. “Though, I never did ask her opinion on the matter. For all I know she thinks I’m crazy too?”

“Well, it depends on the day and what dangerous activity you’ve decided you must partake,” Draco assured. 

“No. It’s just…” Thomas trailed off, shrugged. There was an awkward pause before Thomas exited. 

“You do realize I know there’s not much proof for my sanity out there on this topic,” Harry muttered, glancing at Neville who was humming to himself as he tended to his puking plant. 

“There’s enough proof for me,” Neville offered. “And your godfather and Draco’s mother both believe you, but then again, they were there.”

“So was Seamus,” Harry muttered, shoving things into his school bag. 

“So was the entire school. But, then we all went home and only had the _Prophet_ ,” Neville logically pointed out. 

“I know. I read it,” Harry grumbled. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Neville and Draco both nodded their agreement. Draco led the way into the Common Room. His eyes were caught instantly by a large, colorful sign on the notice board. Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, Draco strode across the room to the notice board, pushing first years out of his way. 

**_GALLONS OF GALLEONS!_ **

**_Pocket money failing to keep pace with your out goings? Like to earn a little extra gold?_ **

**_Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gyffindor Common Room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs_ **

**_(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant’s own risk)_ **

Draco snorted. He had half a mind to leave the sign on the notice board, but knew as a prefect he remove it. (Granted, many had already read it and were likely going to join up…)

“You going to speak to them?”

Draco glanced over his shoulder to see Harry and Neville.

“Yes. I’ll do it, as I have a feeling the other prefects are avoiding doing so,” Draco said, glancing over at the corner of the room where the sixth and seventh year Gryffindor prefects were busy not noticing the giant sign. “What are you all still standing around for?”

The first years milling around squeaked and scattered.

“And this is why you’re the best prefect in our house,” Harry joked, rolling his eyes. 

Draco smirked, folded the notice the Twins had posted, and tucked it in his robe pocket.  

* * *

“Did you have one of these in your Common Room this morning?” Hermione demanded sitting down at the table for breakfast. She brandished the Twin’s advert. “These two are just too much.”

“Yes. I will speak to them, though you’re welcome to join me. I doubt I’ll scare them or be able to stop them. You, though, can be downright scary when you wish.”

Hermione snorted, picking up the marmalade and smearing it on some toast. 

“Did Sirius tell you where Hagrid got to?”

“He’s on a giant mission,” Harry replied. “He was supposed to be back, but…”

The three looked at the table where Gubbly-Plank was sitting. 

“Madame Maxine returned,” Draco reported. “She said Hagrid was…doing something personal.”

Hermione hummed, going back to her toast. 

“Harry,” came a demanding voice from behind Harry. Draco turned to find a tall black girl with long, braided hair giving Harry a stern look similar to McGonagall. 

“Hi, Angelina.”

“Good summer?” she asked briskly and without waiting for an answer went on,  “Listen I’ve been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.”

“Nice one,” Harry said, grinning at her.

“Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now that Oliver’s gone. Tryouts are Friday at five o’clock. I want the whole team there, okay? Then we can see if the new person fits. Do you know anyone who would be a good keeper?”

For some unknown reason, Angelina Johnson looked at Draco.

“I’m not trying out till there’s a Chaser position open,” Draco insisted. 

Johnson didn’t look pleased.

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Stay out of trouble,” Johnson ordered, marching off.

“I’d forgotten Wood left,” Hermione said vaguely. “I wonder who’ll be the new Keeper?”

“Not me,” Draco insisted. “That cannot be a fixed point.”

“What? My best mate being Keeper?”

“Yeah.”

There was a sudden whoosh and a clatter, signaling the arrival of the post. The owls all descended from the upper windows and dropped their parcels and letters, which were all soaked through due to the rain outside. Draco cleared a spot for his paper, only to find three huge barn owls dropping off three papers in his lap.

“I think at least two of us can cancel their subscriptions?” Draco offered, handing the papers to Harry and Hermione.

“I still want my own,” Hermione insisted. 

“I’ll cancel mine,” Harry assured. 

“Why are you lot getting that?” Neville asked, looking somewhat irritated. “It’s a load of rubbish. Gran cancelled our subscription.”

“Best know what the enemy is saying,” Hermione assured darkly. 

The trio fell silent as they read the paper.

“Nothing,” Hermione said first, as she read the fastest. “Must be real news to report.”

Draco snorted as he folded his own paper.

“Malfoy,” McGonagall said, thrusting his schedule in his face. “Best get back to your own table Miss Granger.”

“Oh! Schedules!” 

Hermione hurried off as McGonagall handed Harry’s his. Draco looked down and groaned at what they had on the docket.

“History of Magic, double Potions, Divinations, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts? Are they trying to kill me?” Harry moaned.

“At least you’ve got an hour to sleep,” Draco muttered. “I can’t sleep through Ancient Runes.”

“Worst Monday ever,” Harry moaned. 

“Skiving Snackbox?”

“Best thing to skive off lessons.”

The twins appeared between Harry and Draco, putting their arms around the pair of boys and knocking their heads together.

“Special discount prices for prefects who wish to skive.”

“Oh, thank you for reminding me. You cannot employ students to test out your…whatever,” Draco settled upon. 

“Wet blanket.”

“Toe rag,” the other twin said good natured. 

“Soon enough you’ll wish we were allowed to perfect our stock,” assured Left Twin.

“This year is OWL year,” Right Twin said.

One of these days, Draco was going to figure out how to tell them apart.

“Yes, I’ve realized this,” Draco assured. “Still, I do not need a Common Room full of first years bleeding from the nose or vomiting all over the place.”

“Hear that, George?” Right Twin asked.

“Yes, I did, Fred. We’re free to turn first years into canaries!”

“That is not—” 

That was as far as Draco got before the pair of redheaded boys vanished.

“Where’d they go?” he asked.

“No idea. But, they need to find people to test these products out on and will find testers one way or another. And they test them first on themselves so they can’t be all that bad, right?”

“You’ve helped them, haven’t you?”

“I might have slipped something to my cousin,” Harry admitted. “It worked brilliantly.”

Harry grinned wickedly.

* * *

Professor Binns had not gotten exciting over break, so he was still ever nap inducing within five minutes of starting class. 

“You don’t need an OWL in this to, well, be anything in this world, right?” Harry whispered as Binns droned on about giant wars. 

“Who knows? Depends on what you want to do,” Draco assured. “Also, Hermione pays attention, somehow. We’ll learn from her notes like always.”

This placated Harry, who promptly fell asleep. Draco followed shortly after. He was woken up by the sound of scraping chairs and nudged Harry. Harry woke muttering about being _almost there_. The pair of boys headed out into the courtyard for their short break, huddling together to wait for Hermione and her wonderful jar of blue fire. Before Hermione arrived, though, Cho Chang approached them. 

“Hello, Harry!”

Draco startled. Cho was on her own, lacking the usual gaggle of girls who followed her around. Harry looked absolutely freaked out by her appearance. 

“Hi,” Harry squeaked out, his face heating up.

“You got that stuff out, then?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. Draco was sure he was trying to grin, but he looked more like he was grimacing. “So, uh, good summer?”

Draco wanted to beat Harry over the head with his school bag. Of course Chang hadn’t had a good summer. Her boyfriend had died and that likely influenced her holiday as much as it’d impacted Harry’s. Sure enough, her eyes teared up and her lower lip wobbled.

“Is that a Tornados badge?” Draco loudly asked, jarring both Harry and Chang. “You support them, do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Chang said, looking defensive. 

“Have you always supported them or only since they started winning?”

“Since I was six,” Chang said, a stubborn set to her face. “Who do you support?”

“The Falcons,” Draco announced. 

This launched them into a debate on Quidditch teams, leaving poor Harry out as he lacked any knowledge of British and Irish Quidditch leagues other than the fact Oliver Wood was on reserve for Puddlemere United. 

“She might have a crush on you now,” Harry snorted as they walked to the dungeons for double Potions. “I wasn’t aware you followed Quidditch that closely.”

“I did before,” Draco admitted. “This time around, not as much time to pour over stats and figures.”

“You still remember all that stuff though?”

“Yes. And it stopped her from crying,” Draco said as they stood in line outside of Snape’s classroom. “That was my goal.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Harry said faintly as they filed into the classroom. 

Snape’s mere presence in the classroom ceased all talking and fidgeting, yet he still said, “Settle down.”

The door snapped shut and the bat-like man swept to the front of the room. 

“Before we begin today’s lesson, I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an ‘Acceptable’ in your OWL, or suffer my…displeasure.”

Harry gulped, even though Snape was lingering his gaze on Draco and Neville’s table and not Harry’s. (Who was seated alone as Finnigan would rather weather a Slytherin than maybe catch crazy from Harry.) 

“After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,” Snape went on, shooting Neville a look. “I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means some of us will certainly be saying good-bye.”

Snape paused for a beat, his black eyes glancing around the room as if waiting for someone to laugh, cry, or something. He sighed a little when the room remained silent.

“But, we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell,” Snape softly said, sighing yet again. “While you might not continue on with Potions, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.”

Snape went on to explain the potion they’d be making: the Draught of Peace. After putting the instructions on the blackboard and opening the store cupboard, he set them loose to make the complicated potion. 

After about thirty minutes, Neville was close to tears trying to get the fiddly, difficult potion to corroborate with him. By the time Snape announced a silver mist should be raising off the potion, Neville was silently crying into his just-mixed cement potion. Draco was the only person in the classroom whose potion was correctly issuing the light silver vapor. Harry was close second, with a dark silver vapor issuing. He still looked totally frightened when Snape came to a halt at his potion and blankly glared down into the contents of the cauldron. 

“Potter, you added too much syrup of hellebore.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry quickly agreed. 

“How would you correct this mistake?”

Harry looked utterly panicked, but said, “Add a pinch of powdered moonstone and two drops of water.”

“And?”

Harry wracked his brain for several minutes before he said, “A single drop of rose oil.”

“Correct,” Snape snapped, sweeping over to Draco and Neville. Snape paid Draco a glance, then rounded on Neville. “Longbottom! Did you read the third line at all?”

Neville sputtered.

“Can you even read?” Snape snarled. 

Neville sputtered some more. 

“This potion is worthless,” Snape proclaimed. “ _Evanesco._ ”

The contents of Neville’s potion vanished. Neville instantly stopped silently crying.

“At least you won’t have to clean it out,” Snape hissed. “Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making to be handed in on Thursday.”

While Snape said this to Neville, it was clearly meant as an assignment for the entire class. 

“Yes, sir,” Neville squeaked.

“Don’t squeak, for heaven’s sake,” Snape sighed, sweeping away. “Fill up one flagon with a sample of your potion and leave my sight.”

Everyone hurried to comply. By the time everyone had turned in their flagon and packed up, the bell rang. Neville fled the classroom before anyone else. Draco and Harry hurried to catch up with him, but couldn’t find him, so they went to the Great Hall for lunch. The ceiling reminded Draco of Neville’s failed potion, so maybe it was best he simply hide. 

“That was really unfair,” Harry commented as he and Draco sat down at the table. “Goyle’s potion was just as bad as Neville’s. It broke the flagon and set his robes on fire.”

Draco snorted, having failed notice that happening. 

“Snape’s not known for being fair,” Draco settled on saying. “At least he doesn’t pick on you like he did Potter.”

“I’d rather he pick on me,” Harry insisted. “I can take it. Neville was crying.”

“Neville was crying before Snape picked on him,” Draco gently pointed out. “I’m not sure when he started crying, but it was long before Snape showed up at our table.”

“He’s not going to take it next year?”

“No.”

* * *

Ancient Runes was intense. Draco had forgotten everything from last year and spent the hour-long class trying to desperately remember everything and failing miserably. By the time the class ended, he was thankful for the double period of silent reading he was about to part take in. Because he was closer, Draco was the first to arrive at Defense Against the Dark Arts. He peaked into the room to find the fluffy cardigan wearing Umbridge already seated behind her desk.

“Come on in, Mister Malfoy,” she simpered. 

Oh, god. She knew his name.

Draco bowed his head and entered, sitting in the middle of the room.

“I hear you’re good friends with Mr Potter, is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you believe this rubbish about You-Know-Who?”

Draco stared. He was saved from answering by the arrival of everyone else from Divinations. They entered quietly, treating Umbridge as an unknown quantity.

“Well, good afternoon!” she said when everyone was seated. 

A few people mumbled “good afternoon” in reply. Except Draco and Harry who loudly chanted the way Umbridge wanted (Draco had told Harry about this quirk of hers). It was worth it as instead of chiding the class instantly, she looked completely suspicious. She narrowed her beady eyes and glared at Harry, who innocently gazed back. 

“Tut, tut,” she recovered, simpering at the class and ignoring Harry and Draco. “That won’t do. I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge’ in reply to my greeting. Let’s try again. Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” the class chanted at her, using the same inflection Draco and Harry used the first time. 

Umbridge was furious, pressing her lips together and almost shaking the ugly black bow off her head. She recovered quickly (tragically) and reverted back into “sweet old lady.” 

“There, now,” she sweetly simpered. “That wasn’t too difficult, now was it? Wands away and quills out, please.” 

Gloomy looks past around, as the class knew an interesting lesson never followed the command “wands away.” Having not gotten their wands out, Draco and Harry were the only ones not moving while the others put away their wands and got out their quills. Umbridge watched the pair of boys like hawks till silence rang out on the room. While still watching Harry and Draco as if they were at any moment going to cause mayhem and destruction, Umbridge reached into her handbag and extracted her own wand. Like its owner, the wand was abnormally short and thick. Umbridge tapped the blackboard sharply with the wand, words appearing slowly on the board. After she was happy with the appearance of the words, she turned to face the class once more. 

“Well now, your teaching is this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?” Arching an eyebrow, Professor Umbridge looked around the room. She donned a sympathetic look and clasped her hands neatly in front of her. “The constant changing of teachers, many of whom did not follow any Ministry approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in you being far below the standard we require in OWL year.” 

She paused to see how the room took this information. Draco glanced around to find most of the students looking mildly insulted, except Harry who was nodding his agreement. Draco managed not to snort. 

“You will be pleased to know,” Umbridge went on, her expression mild and sweet while her eyes glared daggers at Harry, “that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.”

Umbridge rapped the blackboard again, her beady eyes scanning the room as the words appeared on the board behind her. Quills scratched parchment and the noise filled the air for the next few minutes as everyone wrote down the course aims, which stated that all they were going to do was learn theory and never actual perform spells. 

“Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

“Yes, Porfessor Umbridge,” both Draco and Harry chimed together, followed by the rest of the class. 

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I think we better try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge,’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge’ together. So, has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge,” rang out loud and together.

“Good,” Umbrdige said. “I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, ‘Basics for Beginners.’ There will be no need to talk.”

Umbridge left the front of the room and sat behind the desk, her pouchy toad eyes watching them carefully. Harry turned to page five, as did everyone else besides Draco (who had already done so), and began to read. Seeing as it was desperately dull and boring, Draco began to write notes to Harry.

_She asked me about you when I arrived. I think she is looking for a spy._

Harry paused in his reading, glanced at Draco’s parchment, read another paragraph, then began to write. 

_Makes sense. She’s totally unnerved that we already knew about her kink for making us parrots._

Draco did not want to know how Harry, age fifteen, knew about _kink_.

“What are you two doing?”

Harry and Draco startled to find Umbridge standing over them. 

“What is that writing? Is that code?”

Draco and Harry both stared at the parchment. Too late, Draco realized they had been both writing in shorthand. Hermione had taught both Harry and Draco shorthand throughout second year in order to make their charmed parchment “texting” faster and for quicker note taking. (Draco figured they ought to learn it so they could use her History of Magic notes without having to decode them first.) For the past two years, shorthand came second nature to the boys.

“It’s Muggle shorthand,” Harry replied. “We take all our notes this way. It’s faster.”

Umbridge sucked in a lot of air through her nose and smiled painfully. 

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Would you like to see?” Harry inquired politely. 

“Yes,” she said tightly. “I would also like the key.”

Harry happily nodded. He set his bag on the table, obscuring their parchments. Draco used the distraction to charm both parchments so they’d read as book notes instead of snarky notes. 

“Here, Professor Umbridge,” Harry said, handing her a stack of parchment. “I’ve been doing shorthand for the past two years, so I will have to make you a key as I no longer have one.”

Umbridge looked through the stacks of unreadable notes before handing them back to Harry. 

“There will be no need. In my classroom, you will write in English, like a proper wizard, please.”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge,” Harry said gravely. 

“You as well, Mr Malfoy.”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge,” Draco parroted. 

She stared at both of them, as if trying to read them. They both stared back till she nodded and headed back to the front of the room. Draco and Harry exchanged glances and went back to blankly staring at their books. Their notes were written in English, though due to the charm on the paper, they were able to play hangman instead. 

* * *

“That was an utter waste of time,” Hermione complained that night at dinner. “What is she playing at?”

“You knew what was going to happen,” Draco reminded the bushy haired witch as he dished up a slice of ham. 

“How does the Ministry honestly expect us to perform the practical on the OWL exam if we’re never gotten to practice the spells in class?” Hermione demanded. “Honestly.”

“Did you bring up that point in class?”

Hermione smirked, looking smug. “Why, yes I did. I have a feeling she’s getting a hard time from the Ravenclaw classes.”

“Did you get detention?”

“No. But, I made a point to make it known I was opposed to the Ministry approved curriculum. This way when it’s time for us to…you know, people won’t be that surprised I’m setting it up.”

“Oh?” Draco asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Yes. Well, the three of us. How are we going to do it?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure…we’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t want to leave Slytherins out,” Hermione announced. “I am sure Blaise, Ronald, Tracey, and Adela will be interested.”

“Who?” Draco asked. 

“Adela Lowe. She’s the other girl who hangs out with them. The one with the glasses?” Hermione asked. “Didn’t you know her?”

Draco shook his head. “No. While I am sure she was in Slytherin last time, I didn’t know everyone. I didn’t need to.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Where is Harry?”

“I’ve no clue, actually. I lost him after we got out of class.”

“He didn’t make a stand in class, did he?”

Draco shook his head. “No. He kept his temper. We did get told off for writing in shorthand. Harry and I didn’t even realize we were doing it.”

Hermione smirked. “It’s a handy skill. And no one can read my notes except me. Well, and you and Harry. I don’t know why wizards don’t have something like that.”

“We’ve got spelled quills to write for us,” Draco reminded her.

“But you can’t use those here,” Hermione complained. “I didn’t take any notes. I sat with my hand in the air for the first half hour. Then we had a lively debate.”

“I take it you failed to win?”

“Of course. She threatened detention.”

“Naughty Ravenclaws,” Draco mused. 

“Indeed.”


	9. Chess

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

“I’ve got a brilliant idea,” Harry proclaimed after their second day of classes. He wore a huge smile and had that light in his eyes that meant trouble with a capital T. 

“Boy-With-A-Death-Wish is alive and well, woe is me,” Draco moaned. 

“Oh, shut up. You’ll be in bed by nine and I don’t have a death wish,” Harry grumbled as more people filed into the Great Hall. A few students sat around them, but left spaces for Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Atlanta. Harry leaned in closer and went on, “Just because Potter waited forever to deal with the Toad Problem doesn’t mean I have to wait. Everyone has had her class by now and knows she’s never going to teach us squat. Also, she’s yet to…start with her…what were they again?”

“Education Decrees.”

“Yeah. Those. She doesn’t have those yet, so I’ll start a club now before she outlaws them.”

“No matter what you do, if she finds out you’re tutoring people in DADA she’ll react.”

“But, I won’t be.”

Draco gave Harry the most confused expression he could muster. 

Harry smirked. “Chess Club.”

“Excuse me?”

“Chess Club,” Harry repeated, eyes twinkling almost like Dumbledore’s. “It’s genius. And there’s no Chess Club at Hogwarts. There’s a Gobstones Club, but not Chess. It’s prefect!”

Draco knitted his eyebrows together. “You don’t know how to play chess.”

“I kind of do,” Harry insisted. “And that’s not important. Meet me by the Room of Requirement, okay? I’ll show you what we’ve come up with. I’m gonna go find Hermione and tell her.”

Grabbing a chicken leg, Harry darted out of the Great Hall, leaving a bemused Draco behind. 

* * *

Harry was bouncing up and down when Draco and Hermione showed up at the Room of Requirement. He was holding a rather plain looking classroom door knob while he was hopping up and down. He flung the door open the moment Draco and Hermione were close.

“In, in, in,” Harry urged. 

Draco glanced at Hermione who shrugged and went into the room. Draco followed. 

The room was nothing to write home about. It looked like the standard Hogwarts classroom. It had windows, doors, a blackboard, and desks. The only thing that indicated it wasn’t the standard classroom was the fact the desks were all filled with chess boards, had two chairs, and the room was full of the noise of the chess pieces. 

“You were serious,” Hermione whispered, tightening the grip on her school bag. “You’re starting a chess club that will later become a defense club?”

“No. Chess Club is just a front,” Harry proclaimed, going to one of the doors along the back wall and flinging it open. “Whaaaaa-la!”

Exchanging confused looks, Draco and Hermione made their way through the opened door into a massive room with high ceilings and no windows. It was brightly lit from some light source that lined the walls and reflected on the ceiling. The room was filled with things that would aid in teaching DADA, like a dummy, cushions, and an array of books. 

“The Chess Club is just a front,” Hermione echoed, turning around. “And the light?”

There was a HUGE red lightbulb right above the door. 

“Will go off if Umbridge or one of her soon to be minions shows up,” Harry proudly declared. 

“Who will set the light off?” Hermione asked. “And what if someone wants to actual join the Chess Club?”

“Then it’ll happen. This room, we’ll tell the people who aren’t part of our secret army, is for people who want to play Muggle Chess.”

“Muggle Chess?” Draco asked. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “If someone whose not part of our Super Secret Army actually wants to play Muggle Chess, then our DADA club won’t meet, but if the light goes off while we are meeting…”

Harry trailed off, scrunching up his face. Within a second, the room shifted, changed, and tables appeared filled with chess boards with strange looking pieces. The room was silent, free from the helpful hints of chess pieces the other room was filled with.

“I’m thinking no one will actually want to play Muggle Chess, but I’m equal opportunity,” Harry proclaimed, smiling as if he was the smartest person in the world. 

“This is rather clever,” Hermione admitted, picking up one of the Muggle chess pieces. “But, who will set the light off to let us know we’ve been made?”

“Tom.”

“Tom is see through,” Draco reminded Harry. 

“And not a ghost,” Hermione pointed out. “People will notice him in that classroom.”

“Not if he’s behind something. Here. I’ll show you,” Harry said, going back through the door to the other room. 

The chess pieces began all talking over one another even though no one was playing chess the moment the trio entered. In a corner of the classroom, Harry headed for a potted plant Draco hadn’t noticed. Harry moved it to the side and Tom slowly stood up. The two wore matching smirks. 

“The room recognizes Tom,” Harry explained, bouncing on his heels as he could not contain his excitement. “So all he has to do is think about the blinking light and it’ll go off!”

Hermione looked as though her head was going to implode. 

“How will we separate those who want to take DADA lessons and those who wish to play chess?”

“Well, organizing anything across House lines is difficult,” Harry started, “but we’ll just put feelers out and gain a gathering. How’d the club communicate last time?”

Everyone looked at Draco.

“No clue. We never fathomed how they did it,” Draco admitted. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Hermione assured. “At the moment, besides us, we’ve no one to tutor in defense. I say I start the Chess Club. Umbridge already excepts you to do something underhanded— even if you’ve done nothing.”

“She’s gunning for my head on a plate,” Harry sighed. 

“Well, don’t step out of line,” Hermione warned. “Also, I know a very good chess player who’d likely be more than happy to boss others around and share his knowledge.”

“Who?” Draco asked.

“Ronald Weasley.”

* * *

The first meeting of the Chess Club (no clever name, tragically) w-pas a total bore for Draco. He felt a minor annoyance at the fact that while Hermione was the actual founder (on paper), Weasley behaved as if it was his idea to start the club to share his knowledge. Grudgingly, Draco had to admit that Weasley was a very good chess player. The Weasel likely was also a good chess player, having won a boat load of House points for playing a good game of chess first year— not that it made any sense. Chess required forethought, strategy, and, well, thinking. The Weasel didn’t  _think_ as far as Draco had observed. Weasley, though, did think. Sometimes. 

The people who showed up to the first Chess Club were, though, many of the people who’d belonged to Potter’s little group. Luna Lovegood, Neville, the Twins, the Creevey brothers, Cho Chang (who spent the entire meeting staring at Harry and blushing), Cho Chang’s little friend who clearly didn’t want to be there, Ginny Weasley (who looked as if she didn’t want to be there either), a few Ravenclaws, one of whom was clearly only there due to the fact Ginny was there, and Zabini and the two girls. There were also a few other people who were there to play chess. 

Draco and Harry spent the first meeting feeling people out. Draco spoke to Luna (who said yes before he actually broached the subject), Ginny, and Neville on the topic of a defense tutoring group, lead mostly by Harry. Ginny (and her entourage) agreed to show up the next meeting to discuss it further. Harry said that Cho, her friend, and the Twins were in, and Hermione added that Zabini and the two girls were in and would share their knowledge later with Weasley, who clearly had a bit of Big Head Boy in him and loved to order people around and would not relinquish his lordship over the Chess Club. 

“Do you think Atlanta would want to join?” Harry asked as they headed back to the tower. “I mean, I told her about it, you know the real reason we were setting up this club, but she just nodded. Have you been able to spend any time with her? It’s like she’s never around.”

“No, I haven’t seen her even at meals.” Draco frowned. “We need to…”

Floundering for what to do, Draco waved his hands around. Harry nodded, frowning.

“Maybe we should research multiple personalities or something.”

“Harry, that’s the kind of thing we don’t live with in the wizarding world,” Draco said quietly. “If whatever she used to do to…keep her sanity has broken down due to Marv’s return, the only thing to do would be to…”

Draco didn’t want to say it, but he had a feeling Harry knew where Atlanta would end up for the remainder of her days. 

“I’ve never really known anyone with…mental illness,” Harry admitted.

“I do,” Draco said, shuddering. “Granted, Bellatrix is…insane. I don’t think Atlanta’s insane.”

“No, but she’s not well.”

* * *

The next week, there was a Ravenclaw Quidditch practice, so they didn’t meet to discuss the tutoring group, but did introduce the option of Muggle Chess. 

No one save the people who were interested in the defense tutoring came into the back room. 

“This is really cool,” Ginny commented, staring around the defense classroom Harry had dreamed up.

“So, uh, I think the next time we’ll all be free is the next Hogsmeade trip,” Harry said, looking down at a piece of parchment that listed various Quidditch practices and other commitments Harry had gathered at some point. 

“Oh, Harry…” Draco trailed off. “Bad idea. I’m sure there’ll be spies all over the place.”

“Spies?” Ernie MacMillian, who’d somehow found out about the secret group, asked. “For who?”

“Who do you think?” Draco snapped. “Umbridge.”

“Then we’ll have to meet in a crowded space that will make eavesdropping hard,” Hermione pointed out. “Three Broomsticks. It’ll be loud and crowded, as this is the first visit and third years will be over running the joint.”

“Ah, good thinking,” Ernie toadied, nodding so hard he almost lost his head. 

“Harry, Draco, and I will be in Three Broomsticks by one,” Hermione announced. “Don’t all show up at once as that’ll look suspicious. Come in shifts. We will have a way to communicate and a sign up sheet.”

“Sign up sheet?” Ernie asked, looking uncomfortable suddenly. “Should we put our names down on a sheet of paper?”

“Do you think I’d leave it lying around?” Hermione snapped. 

Draco knew the reason for the sign up sheet. It was the same as the last time. If someone spoke of the group to Umbridge or any other adult outright and told them where they were meeting, a curse would enact and BAM. Ugly pimples for life. (Draco had been impressed with the meanness of the curse Granger used. It was so unlike her.)

Draco glanced around to find the room lacking in Cho’s tattle-tale friend who clearly wanted nothing to do with the group. She wasn’t on the Quidditch team yet hadn’t shown up with the other Ravenclaws. 

“Also, if you know ANYONE who would be UNCOMFORTABLE should we be caught, DO NOT sign up. If you know a person like this, offer to teach them things after our lessons. That way, if you are questioned, you can state you are studying. With members of your own house and on your own time. Do try to be smart about this,” Hermione warned.

“Are we ever going to hear Harry’s story? I mean, where’s the proof he’s not as bonkers as they say?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the Hufflepuff boy who’d come with Ernie. 

“Who are you?” Draco demanded in his best sneering pureblood tone. 

The boy sat up straighter and puffed out his chest, “Zachariah Smith. And I think we’ve all got the right to see some proof if he’s saying Who-Know-Who is back. That’s the whole reason for this little group, right? Because he’s back.”

“Proof?”

Everyone in the room jumped at the sound of a new voice, one that hadn’t been in the room before. Draco whirled around to see Atlanta Lupin standing in front of the closed door, looking dangerous. Her eyes were glittering more blue than amber in the lighting of the room. 

“You want proof, Smith?”

“Atlanta,” Harry started, trying to push through the group to where Atlanta was standing. 

He was fast enough, as Atlanta was rolling up her sleeve. Smith shrunk back at the sight of the ugly scar tattoo-like thing that adorned Atlanta’s left arm. 

“What is that?” Ginny Weasley’s admirer whispered. 

“It’s what T—Voldemort did to me when I spent a year in his presence in 1943. It links me to him. Want see what it looked like before his return?”

Atlanta didn’t bother to wait for an answer before she produced her wand and ripped the memory out of her head. Draco wondered where she’d get a Pensive bowl, but one materialized, then morphed into a viewing screen of sorts for the large group. She threw the memory into the bowl and they all watched various instances she looked at the scar on her arm. When she was in the past, it looked like a fresh scar. When she appeared in the 1970s on her way home, it was dark, looking as if it was burned into her arm. Last fall she noticed it was getting darker again after it’d been pink since she’d gotten back. Then, at the last task, it burned black.

“That good enough proof that Harry’s not a mad hatter?” Atlanta sneered, her Southern accent coming out thicker suddenly. 

“Atlanta,” Harry repeated, putting his hand on her arm. Her eyes finally left Smith and locked onto Harry.

“He knows, you know,” Atlanta said. “He will come for us as we are his.”

Harry blankly stared at Atlanta as Hermione and several others gasped. Draco felt sick. 

“Yeah,” Harry admitted quietly. “I kind of figured.”

Atlanta’s expression broke and her knees buckled. Harry caught her on her way down. 

“Uh, I think that’s it for the evening. If you want to stay and play chess,” Hermione trailed off as the group hurried to exit, leaving only Ginny, Draco, Harry, Luna, and Hermione behind. Ginny knelt down next to Harry, motioned she’d take Atlanta. Harry let Ginny take the broken child. Luna knelt down on the other side once Harry stood and pet Atlanta on the head slowly as if she were a cat.

“What do you mean you figured out Voldemort knew?” Hermione quietly asked as Harry joined her and Draco. 

Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “After Regulus told us about the horcrux and I went to the Ministry…well, Tom guessed that the horcrux would connect me to Voldemort. Like his thoughts and stuff. It explained the dreams of the hallway. I saw this hallway when I was at the Ministry. No clue where it goes, but it was the one I’d been dreaming about all summer. I mentioned this to Tom, who heard me muttering of course, and, uh, he guessed that we were, well, connected on a deeper level.”

Harry tapped his head, cringed, and shuddered. 

“The link goes both ways,” Harry murmured. “And I’m pretty sure he knows it.”

“Harry,” Hermione gasped, putting her hand over her mouth.

“You’ve got to block him,” Draco instantly said. “You cannot let him in your head.”

“He can’t make me do anything,” Harry insisted. “It’s just when we’re both asleep. He doesn’t sleep a lot.”

“He doesn’t sleep a lot?” both Hermione and Draco echoed. 

“No. Tom…”

“Does he get in your head like that?” Ginny demanded, starling the everyone else. Harry looked completely panicked that Ginny had heard them, but she gave no indication she wanted an explanation past what she’d asked Atlanta. 

“No. I don’t know what hallway Harry speaks of,” Atlanta said, sounding more British and prim. “I get…his general being.”

The room shuddered.

“I could find him.”

“Someone explained the links are different,” Harry admitted, glancing at Atlanta sheepishly. “Their link is between their blood. Marv and I…just through this.”

Harry tapped his lighting bolt scar. 

“Oh!” Draco shouted, getting the room’s attention. “That’s what…it wasn’t…oh.”

Draco realized Ginny was in the room, thus, he shouldn’t blurt out what he’d just realized. 

Luna, the brilliant girl she was, said, “Ginny, we ought to aid Atlanta to the Common Room. It’s more comfortable than this floor and we can look for Nargles on the way.”

“Uh, sure,” Ginny agreed, helping Atlanta to her feet. 

“I plan to join this group,” Atlanta announced. She grabbed Ginny’s arm tightly. “And I can help train. I know…I know quite a bit of spells I shouldn’t. While they are Dark, I do know how to use them…properly.”

“Defensively?” Harry offered.

“Yes. Voldemort trained me to fight and I’ve continued practicing on my own,” Atlanta proclaimed, her eyes looking normal again. “You’ve fought him. Between us, we can train an army to battle him.”

Harry nodded.

Ginny, Luna, and Atlanta exited the room. Hermione sighed deeply, then rounded on Draco. “What did you remember?”

“Potter took remedial Potions with Snape,” Draco proclaimed proudly. 

Harry and Hermione both looked confused.

“Do I have to take remedial Potions with Snape?” Harry squeaked.

“No. They weren’t doing remedial Potions! Snape is…he’s a master at Legilimency and Occlumency. What do you want to bet he was teaching Potter Occlumency rather than remedial Potions?”

“Why?” Harry asked. “What is Ock-clue-mency?”

“Occlumency,” Hermione corrected. “I’ve read about it. It’s not widely practiced and it takes years to perfect.”

Draco nodded. “But, it’s relatively simple to learn to block your mind, which is the first step of Occlumency. I can do it.”

Harry stared at Draco wide eyed. “You can do it?”

“Yes. My aunt gave me…lessons before I began my sixth year, remember,” Draco ground out. “I don’t think Potter ever achieved the skill, though.”

“Why not?”

Draco bit his lip, debating for a moment on how to explain. 

“You can departmentalize,” Hermione whispered. “You were trained from birth to be able to shut off your emotions. You’ve complained often about how Potter wore his emotions on his sleeve.”

Harry frowned. 

“Does this mean I’ll be able to learn it?” Harry asked. 

“I think part of the problem was Snape was teaching Potter,” Draco admitted. “While my aunt…was no where mentally balanced to do anything, she did not detest me to the ends of the Earth. And, Harry, you’ve picked up a few things from me since meeting me that Potter lacked.”

“You don’t always wear your emotions,” Hermione admitted. “You’ve perfected the pureblood mask.”

“I have?”

Hermione and Draco nodded. 

“Do, uh, can you teach me? To block my mind from Marv?”

Draco nodded. “I think I can.”

“Good. Because…that’d be helpful.”

“Can we teach it to the group?” Hermione inquired.

“I…” Draco trailed off.

“I’ll research methods,” Hermione hastily said. “I’m sure there’s books in the library.”

Draco nodded. “There should be. They might be in the Restricted Section.”

Hermione frowned. “Fine. I’ll need to borrow Tom.”

“He’s outside.”

Hermione nodded and walked out into the main room. 

“Draco?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Even if I block Marv, we’re still going to the Ministry this summer.”

“I know.”

“Okay. Good.”

“At least we’ll know where to go based on your dreams,” Draco offered.

Harry snorted. “Yeah. Maybe he’ll give me some more?”

“Not likely. The hallway you’re dreaming of is the Department of Mysteries, isn’t it?”

“I would assume so, based on where Potter went and what he went to get.”

“Yeah. Marv might learn exactly where the prophecy is kept. He might send that to you to trick you into going to get it for him.”

“Why can’t we just ask Sirius to take us? I mean, it is mine. And only people who the prophecies are made about can collect them.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t want you to have it. Nor does he know that Sirius told you,” Draco reminded the green eyed boy. 

Harry kneaded his forehead. “Ghag. I just want this to be over.”

“Me too. Me too.”


	10. Inquisition on High

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

“It’s started,” Hermione stated, sitting down at the Gryffindor table across from the boys one morning in the early fall. “Did you read it in the paper?”

“Where? What started? What am I looking for?” Harry asked, snatching the paper from Draco.

“Rude,” Draco chided, picking up his coffee cup. 

“It’s hidden, but it’s there. Right there,” Hermione pointed when Harry reached the right page. Draco leaned over Harry’s shoulder and read the tiny headline hidden within the depths of the paper. 

“Trespass at the Ministry,” Draco muttered. 

“Yes, since they have hidden it and don’t say where exactly, I’m guessing Podmore tried to get into the Department of Mysteries.”

“He’s on our side,” Harry whispered. “I thought.”

Draco and Hermoine both blankly stared at Harry. 

“Oh. Yeah. I guess that doesn’t really matter,” Harry grumbled. “Wizards and all.” 

“The sentence seems a bit harsh for just trying to get through a locked door,” Hermione commented, eyeing the line that stated Podmore was going to Azkaban. 

“Aren’t there ways they could tell he was under _Impervious?”_ Harry asked. 

“No. There’s no way and he’s probably still under it. Whoever put him under it is a high ranking official more than likely. Used him when he was on guard duty.”

“He didn’t return Moody’s extra Invisibility cape,” Harry remembered. “I heard Tonks complaining about that when she dropped by once over the summer. So, he’s been under awhile.”

“How did they not see what was happening then?” Hermione complained. “Did the Order just thing he swanned off with it?”

“Likely thought he was just under pressure at work. He works for the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries. Or something,” Draco offered.

“They aren’t doing CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Harry complained, folding up the paper into tiny pieces. “Anyway, got first practice.”

“Who’d they find for Keeper?”

Harry gave Draco a dark look and refrained from answering. Draco frowned as Harry stalked out, followed by the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch players. The only new person who swaggered out was a muscle-bound kid Draco didn’t know. 

“Who is that?”

“No clue, but the rest of the team seems less than happy with the choice,” Hermione observed. 

* * *

Harry returned later in the afternoon while Draco and Hermione were working on homework in the Gryffindor Common room. He looked grumpy as he threw himself down in the chair across from Draco. 

“We’re totally gonna loose,” Harry moaned. “McLaggen is an idiot and…not a team player. He’s a fat head.”

 Hermione snorted. “A fat head?”

Harry shrugged. “He kept trying to tell Angelina how to run her team. Between him and the Slytherins who showed up to heckle us, it was less than productive practice. So, we’re gonna loose. I miss Oliver.”

“Even if Angelina lets you sleep past five on the weekends?”

“Yeah. I’d rather be up at five than deal with McLaggen.”

Harry slumped down even further as an owl began to incessantly peck the window on the other side of the Common Room. Someone finally opened the window and the bird flew in and headed for Ginny. Ginny glared at the bird as if she knew what it had as it landed before her and extended its leg.

“I don’t want your letter,” Ginny told the bird.

The bird cocked its head and shook the letter.

“It’s not even for you,” Atlanta drawled, peering at the letter. When Ginny made no move to take it, Atlanta undid it, patted the bird on the head, and studied the letter as the bird took off and flew out the window. “It’s addressed to Ronald, but I guess the owl can’t get to the Slytherin Common Room with it being underwater and all.”

“I’m not giving that to Ron,” Ginny snapped loudly, seemingly not realizing the entire room was staring. 

Atlanta shrugged. “I’ll give it to him.”

Atlanta rose from her seat and drifted over to Harry. 

“It’s in my trunk,” Harry said before Atlanta could ask him anything. She nodded and headed up the stairs.

“You’re just going to let her go through your trunk?”

“Tom’s up there,” Harry said. “Also, I keep embarrassing things locked up in a special compartment only I can open.” 

“You have embarrassing things, Harry Potter? Oh, do tell.”

Harry glared, turned beet red, and shoved his nose into a book he picked up off the table at random. It was upside down. Draco rolled his eyes, as he really didn’t care what “embarrassing” things Harry kept in his trunk.

“Do you think she’ll take the Map or the Cloak?”

Atlanta bounced down the stairs holding the beat up parchment. Draco narrowed his eyes as she all but danced out the portrait hole. He exchanged looks with Harry as Ginny stared after Atlanta with a look of complete worry. 

* * *

The next morning during breakfast Ronald Weasley appeared at the Gryffindor table, red faced and tense. He loomed over Ginny, who didn’t bother turning around to look at him. 

“He is the world’s biggest git,” Ronald Weasley grit out.

“I know,” Ginny said. “I can guess what the letter said.”

“I’m in.”

“In what?”

“The Muggle Chess Club. I want in completely,” Weasley proclaimed. 

Ginny looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “You love leading Chess Club meetings.”

Weasley gave his sister a look before looking right at Draco. “I’ll still lead them, but I’m signing up for Muggle Chess. I want to play Muggle Chess.”

“Fine,” Hermione said, catching onto what Weasley was saying. “Come early and we’ll let you play a game before the Wizarding Chess Club meets.”

Weasley nodded, then stalked across the room. Ginny watched him. 

“He was worried how it’d look since he’s a perfect,” Ginny whispered, looking at Harry, then Draco. “Guess he’s really throwing his lot in with you.”

She turned back to Harry, making Harry turn bright red and look slightly panicked. 

**lokilokilokiloki**

“Oh. My. God.”

Harry and Draco both looked up and over at Ginny Weasley, who was staring at Draco’s morning paper with her jaw on the ground. 

“Excuse me?” Atlanta inquired, looking up from her porridge. 

Opening and closing her mouth wordlessly, Ginny pointed at the paper, half folded in front of Draco. Draco unfurled it and saw what had caught Ginny’s eye.

Umbridge had been made High Inquisitor. 

Atlanta snatched the paper, eyes flashing strangely as she glared at the front page.

“What does this even mean?” she demanded, her British accent strong.

Harry glanced at Draco, a question in his eyes. Draco shrugged, figuring Atlanta was simply playing along with Ginny’s confusion and outrage. 

“She’s been a success?” Atlanta shirked, sounding more posh if possible. “Where did this reporter get their information? She is an utter failure at teaching. When I was—”

Atlanta stopped talking, eyes shutting and her whole body going slack suddenly. When she reopened them, she shook her head, then looked back at the paper. 

Ginny snatched the paper from her, eyes going back at forth at a rate that would make Hermione proud. 

“How can Dumbledore stand for this? The Ministry is taking over Hogwarts!” Ginny hissed. 

“He likely has no control over it,” Atlanta smoothly replied, her accent sounding once more her usual American-British combination. She took the paper from Ginny. “The _Daily Prophet_ and the Ministry have done a very good job at discrediting Dumbledore. He has very little sway over matters any longer, having fallen from grace.” Atlanta snorted rather unattractively. “And anyone who stands up for him follows.”

She tossed the paper, the article highlighting Madam Marchbanks’ alleged links to subversive goblin groups. 

“Subversive goblin groups? Is that even a thing?” Draco asked, picking the paper up.

Evidently it was. 

* * *

Umbridge wasn’t present to oversee History of Magic (and she never would be) nor was she inspecting Snape, who handed back their first OWL graded assignment. This time, Draco scored an E. Neville sighed, displaying his D for Draco to see. Neville gave Draco a helpless look as Snape proclaimed he was going to hand out detentions to people scoring Ds. Draco patted Neville on the shoulder as Nott snorted and pointed at Neville.

Neville required more help than usual throughout the lesson in order to get a passing grade on the potion, so Draco was sweaty and tried by the end of class. Pushing his damp hair out of his face he packed up his things and met Harry at the door.

“You look like you played a rough match of football,” Harry remarked. 

“Excuse me?” Draco asked. 

Harry shook his head. “Never mind. What’d you get on the homework?”

“E. You?”

“A,” Harry said, sounding triumphant. 

“So, you just passed.”

“Bugger. I did, didn’t I. What’d I do wrong?” Harry asked, pulling his assignment out to study it. 

“Have Hermione look over it.”

“I brewed it wrong to begin with,” Harry muttered. “Do you think Neville get a pass this time?”

“Yes. At least an A. I thought for sure Snape would give him a T,” Draco remarked. “He is really dismal at Potions. Even when he’s not downright terrified.”

“True. He hasn’t made anything go wrong from shaking since you started sitting with him,” Harry offered. “Think Umbridge will be sitting in one of our classes this afternoon? When does she have time to teach her own classes? Wait. You don’t think the Ministry gave her a Time Turner, do you?”

Draco shuddered at the thought. 

Draco didn’t see the troll till he sat down for her class later that afternoon. She appeared a little flush and a little too pleased with herself. 

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” Draco chanted as he sat down. 

“Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy,” Umbridge returned. “You’re early.”

“I didn’t need to come from the North Tower,” Draco explained. 

“The only Gryffindor not taking Divination?”

Draco nodded, pulling his textbook out along with a quill and parchment for note taking. He could feel her beady eyes watching him as he arranged his things till the others began to trickle in. Umbridge began to hum and smile as the others all settled. When the bell rang she instructed, “Wands away.”

Those foolish enough to take out their wands put them away.

“As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen and commence chapter two, ‘Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation.’ There will be no need to talk.” 

The class gave an audible sigh as pages began to turn and Umbridge smiled, wide and self-satisfied. Draco glanced at Harry, who pulled his finger across his lips like a zipper and began to copy the book out onto his piece of parchment. 

* * *

Draco got to see Umbridge in action the next day in Transfiguration. Professor Umbridge sat in the back of the classroom in a corner holding a clipboard and scanning the room with her beady eyes. Harry grinned a grin that usually only showed up when he was about to get into trouble. Draco gave Harry a warning look as McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication she noticed Umbridge in the corner. 

“That will do,” she said and silence fell in the classroom. “Mr Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework— Miss Brown, please take this box of mice— don’t be silly, girl, they won’t hurt you— and hand one to each student—”

“ _Hem, hem_ ,” came that annoying little cough. 

Finnigan handed back the homework without looking at anyone, while Brown thrust the box of mice at her fellow student with a look of disgust on her face.

“Right then, everyone listen closely — Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention— most of you have now successfully vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have the gist of the spell. Today we shall be—” 

“ _Hem, hem_.”

“Yes?” McGonagall all but roared, turning around with her eyebrows forming a long, severe line.

“I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—”

“Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you were doing in my classroom.” 

She turned her back to the little toad. Harry looked at Draco gleefully.

“As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now the Vanishing Spell—” 

“ _Hem, hem_.”

“I wonder,” McGonagall started in cold fury, “how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.”

Umbridge bristled, straightened the parchment on her clipboard, and began to write furiously. Professor McGonagall turned back to the class and began to explain Vanishing Spells. Umbridge remained in the corner of the room taking notes and wore a grim expression when she rose to exit the room once class was over. 

“So, think McGonagall passed?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Draco said. “Well, except on brown nosing points. She failed there worse than Neville at Potions.”

Harry snickered as he dropped his mouse into the box. Draco waited, not having a mouse to drop back into the box having Vanished it sucessfully. Harry, though, had been too distracted by the complete put down of Umbridge to do the spell properly. His mouse was bald, though. 

“See you later,” Harry gleefully said, waving as he headed off for Care of Magical Creatures. Draco smirked and strolled off to Runes. 


	11. Moving Backwards and Forwards

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Harry, Draco, and Hermione found a table in the crowded pub and by one o’clock Draco and Hermione had cast various charms to prevent eavesdropping from the patrons of Three Broomsticks with no one being any wiser. 

“So, why did Filch sniff you?” Draco inquired as Harry returned from a bar run with three Butterbeers.

Harry looked confused, then burst out laughing. “I suppose he was checking for dung bombs. I wrote Sirius the other day, early, and took the letter up to the Owlery. I got up there and a few seconds later, Filch burst in and demanding to see the letter. I’d already sent it, not that it seemed to matter. Umbridge likely put him up to it, you know in case I decide to do something drastic like try to learn.” 

Draco snickered. 

“I thought you spoke to Sirius through an enchanted mirror?” Draco quietly asked as Hermione scanned the bar for the future members of the Super Secret Defense Club. 

“I do, usually, but I write him letters too. You know, to keep up appearances. I’m expected to write him, so I do. And Aunt Narcissa.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow as the Twins sat down across from them wearing huge grins and produced violently yellow quills from both Harry’s ears. They signed the parchment Hermione produced (titled Dumbledore’s Muggle-Loving Chess Club), took the fake gold coins Hermione had put an enchantment on (a very advanced one too, a Protean Charm), then merrily went on their way. Throughout the afternoon, everyone expected stopped by to sign up. By the time the trio made their way back to the castle, Draco felt bowled over by the fact they were really going to get away with it.

Until Monday when he discovered Time clearly did not want them to get away with it.

“Her first decree,” Draco muttered. “Numero Uno.”

“Well,” Harry said sounding too cheery as he looked at the sign tacked on the notice board looking all official and out of place amongst the other handmade notices. “We’ll just have to ask to reform Chess Club. And by we, I mean Ronald. She’s got nothing against him. Plus, I bet she might think he’s a little Percy clone.”

* * *

Tragically, Ronald Weasley was in fact Ronald Weasley and Umbridge decided she must witness Chess Club in all its glory before she gave him the go ahead.

“She said it was just to make sure, but I know it’s because she…she…she…”

Weasley turned red from his hair to his toes and could no longer speak. Zabini glanced at Weasley, then looked back at Draco.

“I assume because all of his family is sympathetic to Dumbledore.” Weasley made a noise that caused Zabini sigh and add, “Except Percy, of course. He does not support Dumbledore it seems. Not enough proof.”

“But there’s enough proof for you?” Draco inquired. 

Zabini cooly looked at Draco. “Of course. Certain parties are a little too smug for their own good as of late, don’t you think?” 

Draco conceded that point. Anyone in Slytherin would know for sure Voldemort was back from the children of the Death Eaters, Draco had simply wondered if Zabini would admit it to two Gryffindors. 

“So, Chess Club meeting tonight then?” Harry asked, rubbing his hands together. He was a bit too bright eyed. “Brilliant. I’ll spread the word we’ll be meeting like usual!”

Harry turned tail and scampered off the hallway.

“We don’t usually meet on Mondays,” Weasley faintly said. 

“We are today,” Draco said, clapping the boy on the shoulder. 

And he could easily do this, as he was a few inches taller than Weasley.

Hell, he was taller than everyone except Dumbledore.  

* * *

Draco felt leery allowing Umbridge to know where the Room of Requirement was, but there was no way to change the location for those not involved in the Super Secret Defense Club. Draco’s mouth dried out the moment Umbridge entered the room, looking suspicious.

“I did not know there was a classroom here,” she stated flatly. “Why did you choose this one?”

“It was empty and Professor Snape said there was never anyone in here,” Weasley explained. 

“So you asked Professor Snape’s permission to form this club?”

“Yes, of course,” Weasley answered promptly, channeling Percy’s tone and perfect posture. Draco sent Hermione an inquiring look and she shrugged. 

“Why did you form this club?”

“There was no chess club. I love chess and thought there’d be others out there who’d enjoy playing or learning to play.”

“And the reason you’re not actually the founder?” Umbridge asked, looking at her clipboard. “It says Hermione Granger first requested to form a chess club.” 

“Well, it was Hermione’s idea, but she didn’t actually know how to play very well, so I took over. With her blessing.”

Ah, and this was the real reason for the delay. The stink eye Umbridge was giving Hermione was anything to go by, she thought Hermione was still in control of this little enterprise. 

“Is that so? Yet she still comes?”

“I am a member of the club,” Hermione stated. “I wanted to learn to play. That’s why I formed the club. Ronald stepped up to help us learn, right?”

“Yeah!” a first year exclaimed, then clamped her mouth shut when Umbridge looked at her. 

Pressing her lips together, Umbridge began to go around the room, asking all the members questions in a similar manner she did during her examinations of classes. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of Harry and Draco seated at one of the tables situated in the corner.

“You’re a chess player, Mr Potter?” she demanded.

“Not a very good one, Professor Umbridge,” Harry replied, putting on aires of being pathetic. (He was kind of a pathetic chess player, but only because he tended to listen to the pieces.) “I thought it’d be fun. You know, to try something that was Muggle, but with a Wizard twist!”

“We do Muggle Chess too for those interested,” Ronald offered helpfully. “In a separate room because Hermione said that Muggles play chess in silence.”

Umbridge looked a combination of confused and outraged. “Muggle Chess?”

“Would you like to see?”

Before she could answer, Ronald opened the door that usually led to the Defense room. However, it was the Muggle Chess classroom when the door opened and Umbridge walked in, looking outraged.

“How is this here?”

“No clue. But it was,” Ronald answered. “But it gets better when I shut the door.”

And Ronald Weasley shut himself in a silent room with Umbridge and a bunch of Muggle Chess sets. Everyone stopped playing chess and stared at the door, ignoring their chess pieces (who were various states of outraged). Ten minutes later, the door swung open and Umbridge exited, glancing around at everyone before she said, “The Chess Club is reinstated.”

And with that she swept out of the room. A smug looking Weasley exited the Muggle Chess room and clapped his hands. “Come on, everyone let’s play! We’ll meet at our normal time on Wednesday, but let’s not waste this extra meeting!”

* * *

While the Chess Club was reinstated quickly, the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams were not. Nott tried to make fun of the Gryffindors for this, but Harry quickly pointed out that if the other two teams weren’t reinstated, then Slytherin would only have Huffelpuff to play. Nott instantly shut his mouth and glared at Harry. 

“And while I know Huffelpuff has some good players and all, it’ll get boring playing only them all season, won’t it?” Harry innocently pointed out. 

While Nott didn’t say much more in front of Harry, he clearly later shot off his mouth to set Neville of all people off, as Neville appeared in the tower that evening covered in bruise paste and his nose looking four times too large for his face.

“What happened, Neville?” Draco asked, eyeing Neville worriedly.

“Nuffin,” Neville muttered and limped off. Draco wracked his brain for what might have caused Neville of all people to get into a fight and realized what Nott must have said.

He closed his eyes and sighed. 

“What was that all about?” Harry asked.

“Nott said something indelicate,” Draco huffed. “Likely about—”

Harry turned to Draco, waiting for him to finish his sentence. 

“Is this like what set Neville off last year when we went over the Unforgivables?” Harry asked softly. 

Harry was looking a little too knowing.

“You know,” Draco stated flatly.

“Erm…maybe?” Harry tried, rubbing the back of his neck and then messing up his already messy hair. “Remember when I told you I knew how to use a Pensive?”

Draco nodded.

“I saw something about Neville’s parents that made his reaction in class make sense. If Nott said something about that, I know it’d set me off.”

Draco nodded.

“So you know what happened to his parents?”

“Yes.”

“Because of your dad?”

“No. I know because my aunt felt it best she brag about what she did,” Draco quietly said. 

“Does Nott know?”

“Not likely,” Draco admitted. “He likely was just being his usual snotty, clottish self.”

“Oh, did I tell you that in Divinitation today Trelawney was in tears because of Umbridge?”

“No,” Draco said, happy for the subject change. “Did she get her results back?”

Harry nodded. “She’s on probation. Evidently Umbridge thinks she’s a fake.”

“Yeah, well, most people do.”

“I know, but still. It just feels wrong. Dumbledore’s kept her for sixteen years. He wouldn’t keep her if she was a fraud.”

“We know she’s not,” Draco pointed out, feeling there was something to what Harry had just said. There was a reason Dumbledore was keeping her around. 

“Yeah, but she’s only made two predictions,” Harry went on. “Or, at least that’s what Dumbledore said.”

“You told Dumbledore about what Trelawney said?”

Harry nodded. “I felt I should after the night we’d had and what she’d said earlier in the day about the servant. And sure enough, a servant did go back to him.”

Draco nodded. “So, since there’s no Quidditch practice, why don’t we work on our Potions essays?”

Harry gave Draco a dark look.

“Or we can sit here and watch the Twins try out their products on themselves for everyone.”

“Weren’t they going to employ first years?”

“It’s against the rules to employ other students,” Draco sighed. “Parvarti made me deal with it.” 

“Did they take it well?”

“See for yourself.”

Harry looked over at where the twins were holding court. They were taking turns taking bites out of some sort of sweet which made them vomit spectacularly into a bucket. Lee Jordan vanished the vomit after the twins had forced another chew into their mouth and stopped vomiting.

“Not sure how we’d get any work done with that going on,” Harry commented, curling his lip up a little as a twin vomited again. 

“We could leave,” Draco suggested.

“Or we could just sit here and watch them rake in the Galleons on a sweet that makes you vomit.”

“There is something seriously wrong with that,” Draco agreed.

“It’s genius, though, if you think about it. They invented that,” Harry said, grinning. “It’s a wonder they didn’t get more OWLs.”

“They might have,” Draco pointed out. “Unless they told you how many they got.”

“No. They didn’t. Anyways, I’m going to check on Neville.”

Harry slunk out of the chair he was seated and headed upstairs. Draco stayed a few minutes longer before he retired as well. 

* * *

They were sleeping through History of Magic when it happened: something exciting. Draco woke out of his stupor to hear a loud rapping on the window. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs out, Draco turned with the rest of the class to find a snowy white owl rapping on the window.

“Isn’t that your bird, Harry?” Lavender whispered. “She’s so pretty.”

“Why is she here?” Harry asked, not bothering to lower his voice as Binns wasn’t likely to notice.

“No idea. Go see,” Draco said, frowning. It wasn’t like Hegwig to show up so late in the morning after the others. Nor was it like her to interrupt class. 

Harry got up and crossed the classroom. After peaking at Binns, who lectured on, Harry opened the window and let Hegwig in with a gust of cold air. Instantly, Draco knew there was something wrong with the bird. Harry’s face filled with worry as he took in her crooked wing. There was a crumpled letter clutched in her claw, but Harry only had eyes for his bird. 

“Professor Binns?” Harry called out loudly.

Surprisingly, Binns stopped talking and looked up, staring at Harry as if he’d never seen him before. 

“My bird is hurt. May I take her to the Care of Magical Creatures professor?”

“Yes, uh, yes, go on Mr Blotter.”

Harry hurried out of the room. Binns went back to droning while the rest of the class all muttered about what had happened to Hedwig. Draco had a sinking feeling it was Umbridge. 

* * *

“She said she’d be fine in a few days. Only broke her wing,” Harry reported at lunch. “I found Gubbly-Plank in the professor’s lounge with McGonagall, who looked furious that someone had tried to stop my bird.”

“Ten Gallons says she knew it was Umbridge.”

“Quiet,” Hermione hissed, sitting down across from the boys. “One of her lackeys might hear.”

Harry scowled. “Someone attacked Hedwig this morning. She had a letter from Sirius. It appeared as if someone tried to get it from her.”

Harry produced the crumbled letter. Hermione frowned at it.

“Why would anyone want to steal your letters?” Draco asked, glancing at the letter. It was filled with mundane details of Sirius’ life— likely boring and confusing to someone who didn’t know him.

“To figure out what Harry’s up to,” Hermione grumbled. “You don’t misbehave in class, you are the model student. You’ve shown no signs of being an attention hungry, mentally unbalanced individual the Ministry wishes to be able to paint you. She’s got to catch you out somehow.”

“There’s nothing to catch out,” Harry insisted. “I’m totally normal.”

Draco snorted.

“Will Hedwig be alright?” Hermione inquired.

“Yes. In a few days she’ll be fine, in a few weeks she can fly again,” Harry reported. 

“Umbridge likely tipped Filch about the dung bombs,” Hermione added in a heated whisper. “I’ve been wondering about that, as it’s such a stupid lie. If he had been able to read your letter, it’d be clear you were not ordering dung bombs. But, it’d be easy for her to get to know what you were writing.”

“Did she ever pass…” Harry started to ask then trailed off. 

“I can’t remember if she did monitor the mail or not,” Draco quietly admitted. “Next year, though, the Ministry will be checking our mail and the year after that…”

Draco shuddered. Hermione reached across the table and placed her hand over his. 

“You know, I’m hoping it won’t take till seventh year to be rid of Marv,” Harry announced. “But, as we all know, my luck sucks when it comes to Marv.”

* * *

Down the table, Atlanta Lupin used her hawk-like eyes to watch the trio and listened with her sensitive ears. 

“What are you planning, Atlanta?” Tom asked. 

He knew she was up to something and whatever it was he knew he’d not like it. While he was spending more and more time with her this year than years past, he had no idea what was going on in her head— past the bizarre conversation they’d had before she ventured out of her room. And she was not dying. Her reasoning made no sense the more he thought about it. It was as if a child had come up with it.

“Nothing stupid, I hope.”

“Do not worry,” Atlanta said under her breathe. “Your existence will not cease.”

“I am not concerned about myself,” Tom snapped.

Atlanta chuckled, causing a few students to look at her and move slowly away.  

“Hello, Tom, Atlanta,” a dreamy voice greeted, sitting down in the cleared spot next to Atlanta. “Thank you for moving. You must have been informed I was coming.”

Atlanta didn’t bother to look over at Luna, so Tom was unable to see the student’s reaction to this proclamation.  

“So, how is the spying today?”

“I am not spying. I am gathering information.”

“Ah, yes. That is what you call it,” Luna said. “Tom, is she really just gathering information? I believe she is spying on Harry. She is plotting something, but I cannot see how Harry’s a part of it.”

“You do realize he can’t answer you,” Atlanta said, finally turning her eyes to Luna. Luna beamed at Atlanta.

“I can see him in your eyes!”

“What?” Tom faintly asked as Atlanta asked the same thing. 

“Amazing. Everyday he becomes clearer.”

“You sure it’s Tom you’re seeing and not Voldemort?” Atlanta snapped, voice going cold.

“Oh, yes,” Luna sunnily assured. “Voldemort is black, blood red, and bright green, as his soul is poison. Tom is soft blues and greys, with a touch of green, but it’s not poison but like grass.”

Tom was sure Atlanta was giving Luna a similar look to the one Tom would be giving if he had a face at the moment: one of disbelief.

“Voldemort has a hold on you, but it centers there,” Luna indicated to Atlanta’s left arm. “Tom shines through your eyes.”

Luna grabbed a chicken leg. Atlanta continued to stare at Luna for a long minute before asking, “What do you think that means? Have you seen him before?”

“No. I only was aware of him when he was in Harry’s pocket. He’s stronger, right?”

Tom felt a shiver of fear go through him and was unsure if it belonged solely to him or it was partly Atlanta. 

“Maybe you should give me to Harry?” Tom suggested.

“It’s not bad,” Luna went on breezily. “It’s actually perfect for the future.”

Atlanta gasped. Luna looked up, looking innocent. 

“No,” Atlanta insisted. 

Luna smiled, a little sadly. “She’s coming back.”

“Who?” Tom and Atlanta asked.

“She told you what to do, didn’t she? I’m sure she did. She’s clever and sneaky.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re speaking of, Luna,” Atlanta insisted.

Luna dreamily smiled, taking a rather large bite of her chicken leg and began to talk about snorkels or something. Tom pondered what Luna meant, as he’d learned that just because she made no sense, didn’t mean she’d later make perfect sense. Or some sense at some point. 

However, no matter how he pondered her words, he couldn’t figure out what “she” Luna referred to, nor did he know what “she” Atlanta could have spoken to that would return. Besides Voldemort (who technically could not die), no one returned from the dead and any female Atlanta might have spoken to that was gone, was not gone but dead. 

Death was a one way trip. 

 


	12. Quidditch Troubles

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Quidditch teams were given permission to reform, just as the weather took a turn for the worse. Angelina Johnson was as horrible as Oliver Wood for she dragged her team out to practice in the mists of a huge thunder storm. Draco sat waiting in the Common Room. Harry returned, with the rest of the sodden team, after an hour. Harry looked troubled and made a beeline for Draco the moment he entered.

“What happened?” Draco asked as Harry motioned for him to follow him to the dormitory. “Besides Johnson trying to drown you.”

“Hardy har har,” Harry dryly laughed as they made their way up the stairs, Harry dripping the whole way. “Our new keeper is terrible.”

“Why?”

“He thinks he’s the captain and knows all. He’s a horrible team player. If only he weren’t so damn good.”

Draco snorted as they entered the empty dormitory. 

“He’s angry,” Harry proclaimed the moment the door shut. “Like, really angry.”

Draco didn’t need clarification on who Harry spoke. Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking a little bewildered.

“I didn’t know that till I said it. I felt a huge pain in my scar, like I’d been having on and off all summer, but this time…he’s so angry. And getting angrier.”

Draco sat down hard on the nearest bed. 

“I kind of want to laugh as I’m picturing him throwing a tantrum like a toddler,” Harry weakly chuckled. 

“Did you see anything?”

Harry was silent for a moment before he said, “He wants something done and it’s not happening fast enough.”

“Ah. Well, we know he hasn’t gotten the prophecy and he’s getting…”

“Antsy?”

Draco gave Harry a look. Harry shrugged. 

“I’m tired of being his emotional radar,” Harry grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “He’s happy, he’s furious, he’s thrilled. Why do I feel these things? I mean, does he feel them for me?”

“No,” Draco quickly answered. “I mean, I doubt it. I believe he was unaware of your connection until Christmas.”

“When Ronald’s dad was attacked by the snake.”

Draco nodded. “I’ve already reminded Sirius of that. Hopefully…hopefully Mr Weasley won’t be on watch that night to fall asleep and be bitten.”

“Sirius will take the watch, won’t he?” Harry sighed.

“Or Regulus,” Draco offered. “So, emotional radar?”

“Well, Dumbledore did say something like this was happening last year…you know, when he feels something strongly, I could tell. Before, it was only when he was mad, but sometimes he is REALLY happy. God, I do not want to know what he’s happy about.”

“Nothing good. Unless…”

Harry looked over at Draco, a curious expression on his face. 

“Unless what?”

“He’s thrilled he’s got a little bunny rabbit,” Draco teased.

Harry threw a pillow at him. 

* * *

“So, my coin is on fire.”

“Excuse me?” Draco asked as they walked across the flooded vegetable patch the next morning to double Herbology.

“My coin. It’s on fire.”

Draco blinked blankly at Harry. 

“Don’t you have yours?” Harry questioned, glancing around. Draco also glanced and saw a few students, one being Ernie MacMillian, trying hard not to dive into their pockets for something. 

“Oh. Well, that’s not good.”

“It’s really not on fire,” Harry amended. “But, our first real meeting!”

“Nervous?”

“No. Kinda excited,” Harry said, jumping up and down. “I mean, Potter was clearly okay at this…Muggle Chess playing, so I should as well, right?”

Draco quirked an eyebrow as they gathered together at a tray, near a few students who were not in the club. 

“True. And you do realize how strange that would sound to someone who doesn’t know, right?”

“That I just referred to myself in the third person?”

“And spoke about something you’d done,” Draco said. “What move do you plan on teaching first?”

“Disarming,” Harry casually said.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “Won’t many of us already know that?”

“Can never be too good at disarming,” Harry told him. 

* * *

That night, Draco stood amongst the members of DMCC , while Harry awkwardly stood before the group, clutching his wand and looking as if he was under trial. 

“Okay,” Harry said, his voice a little squeaky. He cleared this throat. “We’ll start with _Expelliarmus_.”

“What?” several older kids asked in disbelief.

“Oh, please,” the tall Hufflepuff seethed, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “I don’t think _Expelliarmus_ is going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?”

“I’ve used it against him,” Harry quietly proclaimed, standing up taller and looking a little dangerous. “It saved my life in June.”

The guy opened and closed his mouth stupidly for a moment, while the others all stood stock still. 

Draco knew that. Voldemort had made sure all Death Eaters knew it was something Potter was going to use. While the Dark Lord thought it was due to Potter’s lack of character or lack of being a proper wizard, Draco knew it was actually a trump card. 

Draco cleared his throat, making everyone stare at him. 

“Death Eaters can’t kill you if they’re wand-less,” Draco pointed out. “You take away their weapon, you take away one of their methods to kill you.”

“What are the other methods?”

“Knives. Their hands and feet.”

“Like a—” Weasley stopped speaking before he said anything, turning beet red.

“My aunt happens to enjoy knives,” Draco flatly stated. 

Neville shivered and sunk into himself.

“So, we start with disarming— which works on wands and knives,” Harry loudly said, shifting on his feet. “I reckon we ought to divide into pairs.”

Everyone began to move. Draco grabbed Neville. 

“I figured you’d want to partner with Hermione,” Neville said, looking bewildered as Draco steered him to a spot where they could practice.

“Hermione can fend for herself,” Draco replied as Hermione partnered up with Luna. 

“Now, we all know the spell, so, let’s just start,” Harry suggested. 

There were shouts of “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” all over the room and wands flew into the air and in all directions, while missed spells hit various books and one blew up one of the bean bag chairs. Neville’s wand went flying out of his hand and into Draco’s smoothly. Draco and Hermione were the only people holding wands when silence fell. 

“All right, try again. This time, I’ll go around and help you out. There’s some shoddy spell work going on, but it’ll get better. It’s why we’re here,” Harry assured. “Start again.”

“Neville,” Draco started, tossing the wand to Neville. “Aim the spell at my wand, okay?”

Neville looked serious and nodded. Neville tried again and managed to get Draco’s wand to jump out of his hand a bit. His whole round face lit up. 

“I did it!” Neville squeaked over the noise of the others. 

Neville improved a bit as the night went on. By ten past nine, most of the members had managed to get their opponent unarmed. Harry dismissed everyone, remaining behind with Hermione and Draco.

“That was pretty successful,” Hermione remarked. “I wonder how the others got along without Ronald?”

“Likely fine,” Harry assured. “Let’s get going. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yes. I’m a prefect,” Hermione sniffed, turning on her heel and leaving the little room. 

“I best go get Tom. Unless Atlanta got him,” Harry said.

“Tom’s been spending quite a bit of time with her,” Draco observed, watching Harry carefully. Draco was thrilled Tom wasn’t around as much as he’d been the previous year, but he was wondering how Harry felt about it. 

“He’s worried about her,” Harry said, his eyes going shifty before he all but ran out of the room. 

* * *

Weeks went by. Draco found that now he was taking part in the DA (not known as such except in Draco’s head when he didn’t want to call it DMCC), he was getting better and better at DADA. It was amazing what a proper teacher could do. (A Squib could do well in Umbridge’s class. Hell, a Muggle who knew nothing of the wizarding world could do well in her class.) While Draco was amazed at the progress everyone in the club was making, Neville impressed him the most. Every lesson, his self esteem grew and his spell work become less shoddy. He even managed to disarm Hermione one lesson. He’d yet to disarm Draco or Harry. Draco secretly thought Hermione _let_ Neville disarm her, but he had no proof as she’d looked surprised when her wand had rocketed across the room and nailed Neville in the forehead. (His aim was still iffy, but when he wasn’t terrified as he almost always was in class, he was okay.) 

“I think Snape hates me.”

“Harry, we concluded first year he wasn’t a fan of yours,” Draco said. 

“Yeah, but Quidditch,” Harry moaned. “Why did his assign this five foot long essay due the Monday after Quidditch?”

Draco looked up from said five foot long essay and rolled his eyes. “Because he wants you to suffer writing an essay he’s given you a month to work on. He knew you’d wait till the last minute.”

Draco was almost done with his five foot essay. 

“Well, I haven’t had time between Muggle Chess Club, practice, and Slytherins hexing us left and right.”

“They’ve not hexed me.”

“That’s because you’re not on the team,” Harry reminded Draco sourly. “Wish you were. Why couldn’t you have gone out for Keeper?”

“Because I’m a Chaser.”

“I thought you were a Seeker.”

Draco glared at Harry, who smirked. 

“Want me to knock you out and I’ll take your spot Saturday?”

Harry stuck out his tongue and went back to his essay. 

The boys remained in the library until they were kicked out at curfew. Harry pulled his jumper closer around him as they walked through the freezing cold halls towards the tower. The moment November hit, the world around them froze and the castle ceased to be warm. 

“I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow. It might be cold, but at least it’s been clear lately,” Harry muttered as they trekked up the stairs. 

“I think it’s too cold to rain. If anything, it’ll snow,” Draco said. 

Harry shivered. 

The next morning dawned bright and cold, but there were no clouds for miles. Draco woke to find Harry still in his bed.

“Why are you still here?” Draco asked.

“Too cold to leave bed,” Harry replied, huddled in a mound of blankets.

After Draco put on as many layers as he could, he dragged Harry out of his bed. He cast several strong warming charms on Harry, as he couldn’t wear too many layers or his Quidditch robes wouldn’t fit and he’d not be able to move easily. After quick breakfast (which Harry oddly ate, something rather new for the boy before a game), Draco and Harry headed down with the others to the field. 

“Well, hopefully your charms will last until the end of the game.”

“If they don’t, just call for a time out,” Draco joked. “I’ll recast them.”

Harry gave Draco a look and trudged into the locker rooms. Draco made his way with the rest of the school to the stands, taking his usual seat with his fellow housemates. Neville sat down next to him, followed by Ginny and Atlanta, who had pulled her hair back into a bouncy ponytail and looked very…peculiar. Her hair was very, very, very straight and even while on top of her head hung down between her shoulder blades. Ginny also felt Atlanta looked strange as she kept staring at her hair as if it was about to do something. 

“Hello,” said a vague and dreamy voice from behind Draco. Draco turned around to find Luna, who wore a life-sized lion’s head on her own head like a hat. “I’m supporting Gryffindor. Look what it does…”

Luna reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth and gave an extremely realistic roar, which likely would have been really loud if they hadn’t been outside. 

“Good, isn’t it? I wished to have it chewing on a serpent, then I remembered you were once a snake, but more so there wasn’t enough time,” Luna said, chuckling to herself. 

“It’s lovely,” Hermione insisted, squishing herself between Draco and Ginny. Ginny rolled her eyes and moved over. Atlanta giggled.

Hermione did a double take, exchanging glances with Draco, who shrugged. 

“Who was the Keeper last time?” Hermione whispered in Draco’s ear, making all the hair on his neck stand on end. 

“W-weasel,” Draco stuttered. “He was horrible.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked. “Did you hear Crabbe and Goyle were put on the team as Beaters?”

Draco gave her a look and she giggled. 

She should not do that. Draco wasn’t sure his stomach could take it. 

“It is hard to surprise Draco,” Luna offered and her hat roared. 

Conversation ended, as the teams came out and the game got underway. 

Draco remembered the game being a slight disaster due to the face Ron Weasley was a horrible Keeper. While the rest of the team likely would have been great, their distraction due to the song Draco had come up with cost them heavily. This time there was no Weasley failing to keep the Quaffle out and no song, but the Keeper was horrible. Draco had no idea who the lug was, but he kept flying away from the goals to shout at various players. No matter how many times Johnson screamed at him to go back, he always just missed the Quaffle flying into one of the hoops. Johnson called timeouts to shout at him, but it didn’t matter. He simply shouted back.

“Who is that guy?” Hermione asked, looking horrified.

“I can’t remember. Harry hates him,” Draco offered. “Pretty sure everyone hates him.”

“Except the Slytherins,” Ginny muttered, looking murderous. 

Johnson threw out her Keeper. Literally pushed him into the locker room and locked the doors with the wave of her wand. This caused the Slytherins to roar with laugher and the Gyffidnors to look miserable.

“Johnson’s just locked up her Keeper. Not sure what she’s thinking,” Lee Johnson narrated, sounding worried.“But, they’re off.”

The teams kicked back into the air and the game got under way. The twins took position near the goals and played (somehow) Keeper and Beaters. They weren’t the best, and Slytherin managed to get several goals in before Harry dived, quickly followed by Nott. Draco held his breath as the pair of boys re-enacted the close catch Draco and Potter had had in the same game so many years ago. Draco couldn’t see exactly what happened, but Harry pulled up, holding the struggling ball in his hand. 

And like before, Crabbe hit Harry in the back with a Bludger. Hermione gasped in outrage and worry as Harry flew forward off his broom and fell five feet to the ground. 

“Is he alright?” Hermione asked, getting to her feet and trying to see over the hoards of spectators letting the world know how they felt about the bad sportsmanship of Slytherin. 

“Yeah. Let’s head down.”

By the time Draco and Hermione had fought their way onto the pitch, Harry and a twin were on their backs while the girls on the team were all holding the other twin while Madam Hooch screamed at the pair of boys on the ground. Harry and the twin on the ground jumped up and tried to get at Nott again, only to be hit with another jinx that sent them to the ground. Madam Hooch continued to shout, while holding Crabbe by the ear. (How she managed this was a mystery, as she was a good foot shorter than Crabbe.) 

“Go straight to your Head of House! Go! NOW!” Hooch bellowed.

Harry and the twin marched off the pitch, panting and red faced. Hermione gave Draco a worried look. 

“What was that about?”

“Nott being a sore loser. He’ll have a black and blue jaw later.”

Nott was moving his lower jaw around gingerly, while giving the stink eye to Pansy who was trying to help him. 

“Oh, no. What’s going to happen?”

“Well, even though Umbridge hasn’t been terrorizing Harry due to the fact he’s a perfect student, I think she’s going to take too much pleasure in banning Harry for life from playing Quidditch.”

“For life? Honestly. How can she even do that?”

Draco shrugged.  

“Let’s go and wait for Harry. He’ll likely not want to go to the Common Room,” Hermione suggested, turning and heading towards the school. 

The pair waited down the hallway from McGonagall’s office. They’d been waiting less than a minute when the door flew open and a smug looking Umbridge left the office. The door remained open and it was silent for a long time before McGongall dismissed the pair of boys. The twin (George if McGonagall was right) stormed out and in the direction of the Common Room. Harry came out slower, looking shell shocked. Draco and Hermione hurried to intercept him on his way to the Common Room. 

“Come on. Let’s go to the kitchens. I think you could use some smothering,” Hermione said, taking in the state of Harry’s knuckles. Draco rubbed his jaw, remembering how much that had hurt. 

“Were you really that horrible?” Harry whispered, looking up at Draco. “What Nott said about…”

“Well, I spent the whole time bashing the Weasel’s family,” Draco admitted. “I’d written a whole song about how horrible the Weasel was at Keeping and was going on about his parents to Potter and the twins when a twin and Potter jumped me.”

“Nott…”

Whatever Nott said was never explained as Harry fell silent. The silence lasted till they reached the kitchens and the House Elves took over and proceeded to ply Harry with ice for his knuckles and hot chocolate for his soul. Hermione and Draco gratefully accepted their own hot chocolates and various puddings.

“Did she ban you?” Draco asked when they were seated at a small table. 

“Yes. For life. She banned Fred too, even though he didn’t do anything. Wanna bet she’s not going to ban Crabbe for nailing me with a Bludger after the game was over?”

“Not worth your time to bet,” Draco said miserably. 

Harry seethed. 

“So you’re out of Beaters and a Seeker?” Hermione asked.

Harry and Draco nodded. 

“I hate Time,” Harry muttered, draining the rest of the mug before slamming it onto the table. A House Elf hurried up and refilled it. “Well, now what?”

“You feel miserable for a while then move on,” Hermione suggested. “We’ll stay here till dinner time then go to the Common Room. It’ll be empty when it’s dinner time and we can quietly sit and work on our essays for Potions.”

Harry gave Hermione a very dark look.

 


	13. The Return of Hagrid

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

After a quiet meal in the Gryffindor Common Room care of the Hogwarts House Elves, (and Draco would never get over how accepting Hermione was of the House Elves in this time. He wasn’t sure what she’d read this time verse last time, but she respected their wishes to serve her without pay or vacation time. It seemed to be hard for her sometimes, but she didn’t mention payment or time off to any of them that Draco could see. She liked the fact his family paid Dobby, but accepted that among House Elves Dobby was a rarity) the trio sat at Draco’s favorite brooding table. It was located on the far side of the Common Room where it was dark, usually quieter, and often colder due to the drafty window. Thus, perfect for brooding publicly. 

“This is the worst. Day. Ever,” Harry dramatically complained, flopping backwards in his chair. 

“Worst than the day we met Fluffy?” Draco asked.

“Yes.”

“Worst than the day we threw smelly water at a professor?” 

“Yes.”

“Worst than when Lockhart vanished all the bones in your arm and you had to regrow them?”

“Yes.”

“Worst than when your name came out of the Goblet of Fire?”

“Yes.”

“Worst than when you met Marv in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“I miss that Marv,” Harry sighed.

Draco snorted. “So, this day is worst than when—”

“Hey, I can think of something that will make this not the worst day ever,” Hermione interrupted.

The boys looked at her as she stood by pitch-black window. She turned around, a broad smile painting her face that did strange things to Draco’s stomach. 

“What? Is there really such thing as the Abominable Snowman and he’s on his way to eat Umbridge?” Harry asked, leaning forward with an evil glint in his eye. 

“Harry!” Hermione scolded, her smile vanishing.

“What? Too harsh? Are the unicorns mounting a rebellion?”

“Unicorns would never mount a rebellion,” Hermione snapped. “They are peaceful.”

“What did you see?” Draco asked.

“Hagrid’s back,” Hermione said, smiling once more. 

Harry leapt to his feet and plastered his face to the window. “He is! There’s a light on in the cabin and smoke coming from the chimney! Let’s go see him! Be right back!”

Harry sprinted off.

“Might as well follow him,” Hermione suggested. “If we’re to go out in this, we’ll want our cloaks and hats.”

Since the game had ended, it’d begun to snow. The ground was already blanketed in white. 

Draco nodded, following Harry after agreeing to meet Hermione outside of Ravenclaw. In the dormitory, Draco got his winter cloak, scarf, gloves, and hat while Harry dug through his trunk. By the time Draco was outfitted for winter, Harry wore his winter cloak and had the Invisibility Cloak ready for action. 

“I checked the map,” Harry said. “It’s clear for now. Lets get under it now. I bet people are back from dinner.”

Draco nodded. Harry threw the Cloak over the pair of them and Draco frowned.

“I think my feet are showing.”

“What?”

“My feet,” Draco said. “They are showing.”

“Well, hunch on over, you giant,” Harry muttered. “Next thing you know, Hermione is going to be taller than me.”

Draco held his tongue, as Hermione was taller than Harry. Hunching over, Draco waited till he heard the cloak’s hem brush the floor before nodding at Harry it was okay to head on out. Walking crouched over felt unnatural after spending a life time walking tall, but it was worth it with the amount of people that passed on their way to Ravenclaw to get Hermione. After checking to make sure no one was coming, Hermione darted under the cloak when she met the boys in the hall outside the door to Ravenclaw. After making Draco scrunch down further (“I think this is the last time we’ll be able to do this if we keep growing,” Hermione remarked), the trio crept across the Entrance Hall and out into the silent, snowy grounds. 

“When did it start snowing?” Harry asked, sounding utterly bewildered.

“Shortly after the game ended,” Hermione said. “How did you miss it when you looked out the window?”

“I was distracted by Hagrid’s return,” Harry grumped. 

They made it to the cabin without incident, but Harry insisted they remain under the Cloak when he knocked, which he did three times making Fang start barking frantically.

“Hagrid, it’s us!” Harry called through the keyhole when the door didn’t open. 

“Shoulda known,” scoffed a gruff voice. “Bin home three-seconds…Out of the way, Fang…Out of the way, yeh dozy dog.”

The bolt drew back and the door creaked open. Hagrid’s head slowly appeared. Draco felt his stomach roll as Hermione let out a scream. 

“Merlin’s beard, keep it down,” Hagrid scolded hastily, staring wildly over their heads. “Under that cloak, are yeh? Well, get in ‘ere. Get in!”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione apologized as they squeezed past Hagrid. 

“So much for being unseen,” Draco muttered, standing up straight. His back thanked him. Draco pulled the Cloak off his head and handed it to Harry. The minute they were visible, Fang came over to attempt to drown them with his slobbery tongue. 

“Down, Fang!” Hagrid ordered, grabbing the dog before he could maul Hermione.

“Hagrid, what happened to your face?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s nuthin’, it’s nuthin’!” Hagrid insisted hastily, shutting the door and letting go of Fang, who bowled Harry over promptly. Draco escaped to the table and sat down in the far corner where he knew he’d be safe from the over zealous Fang. 

“That is not nothing, Hagrid,” Hermione insisted. 

“What happened to you?” Harry asked, managing to push Fang off of him. “You’re covered in blood, pus, and bruises.”

Hagrid looked as if he had lost a major fight, which he might have as he’d spent the summer with giants. And yet, he ought to have healed by this point. Everything wrong looked very fresh. Draco watched as Hagrid moved around gingerly with a limp to make tea.

“It’s nuthin’. I told ya,” Hagrid said firmly. “Want a cuppa?”

“Yes, thank you,” Draco said before Hermione or Harry could complain further about the state of Hagrid’s face. “So, Hagrid, how was your summer with the giants?”

Hagrid choked on his own saliva and dumped the entire copper tea kettle into the fire instead of hanging it on the hook above the fire. Draco looked at Hagrid innocently, waiting for an answer. Hagrid opened and closed his mouth several times. 

“Giants? Who said anything about giants?” Hagrid asked, turning around to fish the kettle out of the fire. It was empty, yet too hot to set anywhere, so Hagrid rehung it on the hook. “Who yeh bin talkin’ to? Who’s told yeh— who’s said I’ve bin—eh?”

Hermione slapped a huge, raw steak of something on the table top. Hagird picked it up and placed it on his face.

“Thanks, ‘Ermione,” he muttered. “Well, who told you?”

“Sources,” Draco casually said. 

“We guessed,” Hermione said, shooting Draco a look. “It was obvious, really.” 

Hagrid muttered darkly under his breath.

“Well, from the state of you, I’d guess the giants aren’t on our side,” Draco said. 

Hagrid dropped the steak back on the table, flipped it over before placing it back on his face. “Nosy. That’s what you lot are.”

“Yes, thank you,” Draco graciously said.

Hagrid gave Draco an odd look, then sighed. “Fine. Yeh righ’.”

“About it all or just the giants?” Harry asked.

“Both.”

“Well…that is too bad,” Hermione said. “So, mind telling us the tale?”

Hagrid sighed, but told the tale of how he and Madam Maxime went into some mountains (via fighting a troll and a disagreement with a vampire), found some giants, tried to talk to the giants into supporting Dumbledore rather than Voldemort, and in the end failed due to the Death Eaters having better gifts and the old leader getting killed right after Hagrid and Madam Maxime had made headway. 

“Yeh know, yeh askin’ a lot less question than I thought yeh would,” Hagrid commented coming to the end of his tale.

“Well, we already know the Ministry is watching everything anyone who supports Dumbledore,” Hermione replied. “So, we assumed you had to use Muggle transportation, which for you and Madam Maxine would be difficult, so you likely did a lot of walking, thus it would take you some time to get to any kind of mountains, especially the ones on mainland Europe.”

“And it’d have taken even longer if you tried to get the people tailing you to believe you were going to Madam Maxine’s school,” Draco added. 

Hagrid appeared as if he’d been walloped by a troll. 

“Add in the various other things that went wrong before you even got to the giants, no wonder it took you so long. Did Madam Maxine stay this long?”

“No,” Hagrid admitted. “We talked ter the giants and were done with them by the time she had ter get goin’ ter be back.”

“Pitty they decided they liked the gifts the Death Eaters gave them,” Hermione sighed. “Though, it’s fascinating to hear about giant culture. It’s not something we’re taught now is it?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“So, the giants are a no go,” Harry said. 

Hagrid nodded sadly, gazing out the snow filled window. 

“Hagrid?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you happen to find out anything about your mother?”

“Oh,” Hagrid said, staring blankly at Hermione. He cleared his throat and said, “Dead. Died years ago. They told me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hagrid,” Hermione said in a small voice. 

Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders. “No need. Can’ remember her much. Wasn’ a great mother.” 

Silence fell. Draco watched the snow finally fill the window. If they didn’t leave soon, they’d be snowed in. Draco opened his mouth to point this out when there was a loud rapping at the door. Fang began yelping.

“Oh no,” Draco whispered, realizing who was there. “Hide.”

“What?” Harry asked dumbly as Hagrid looked bewildered.

“Who’d be ‘ere now?” Hagrid asked. 

“Draco why are you under the table?” Hermione asked as Fang barked louder.

“SHHHHH!” Draco said, grabbing both Hermione and Harry and dragging them under the table. “It’s Umbridge. Cloak. Now.”

Harry took the Invisibility Cloak out and threw it over them as Hagrid went to deal with the madly barking Fang.

“Is there anything he must hide?” Hermione whispered.

“No. He never got around to getting us tea,” Draco muttered. 

“Slowly back up into the corner,” Harry whispered as Hagrid got his massive hand around Fang’s collar and started to open the door. 

Huddled together, the trio backed up till Draco was pressed in the corner, Hermione and Harry in front of him. Hagrid finally managed to open the door to reveal Umbridge wearing a green tweed cloak with a matching hat with earflaps. Her lips were pursed as she leaned back to see Hagrid’s face. She barely reached his navel and this fact disturbed her greatly. 

“So,” she said slowly and loudly, as though speaking to someone dimwitted. “You’re Hagrid, are you?”

Without waiting for an answer, she strode into the cabin, her bulging eyes rolling every direction. Draco could see the judgments in a little bubble over her head. Fang broke away from Hagrid and bounded up to Umbridge, only to get whacked with her handbag. 

“Get away,” she snapped, whacking the dog some more till Hagrid grabbed him again, staring at the woman agog. 

“Er— I don’ want ter be rude,” he started, “but who the ruddy hell are you?”

“My name is Dolores Umbridge,” the woman proclaimed, eyes sweeping the cabin and landing twice on the corner behind the table where the trio was hidden under the cloak. 

“Dolores Umbridge?” Hagrid echoed, sounding baffled. “I thought you were one o’ them Ministry— don’t you work for Fudge?”

“I was Senior Undersecretary to the Ministry, yes,” Umbridge agreed, pacing the cabin. Her beady little eyes took in every, tiny detail. “I am now the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—”

“That’s brave of yeh.”

“—and Hogwarts High Inquisitor,” Umbridge finished, giving no sign she’d heard him. 

“Wha’s that?” Hagrid asked, frowning deeply. 

“I heard voices before you allowed me to enter,” Umbridge said, not answering Hagrid. She turned sharply to face him. “Who is here?”

“No one. Just Fang. I talk to Fang,” Hagrid answered.

“And he speaks back?”

“In a manner o’ speakin’,” Hagrid said, shifting on his feet. 

“There are three sets of footprints in the snow leading here, but none leaving.”

Hermione cursed quietly. Draco clapped his hand over her mouth. Luckily Fang was sniffing Umbridge loudly, so she did not appear to hear Hermione’s foul language. 

“Well, I on’y jus’ got back,” Hagrid started, waving his enormous hand at the haversack sitting by the door. “Maybe someone came ter call earlier an’ I missed ‘em.”

“There are no footsteps leading away,” Umbridge stated slowly and loudly. 

“Maybe they flew?”

“They walked here and flew away?”

Hagrid shrugged. “Wasn’ ‘ere.” 

Umbridge wheeled around and strode the length of the cabin, sticking her nose into various corners, upturning things to look under them, and went through the cabinets in the kitchen. She past within two inches of where the trio was hidden, pressed as far as they could into the corner. Draco tried not to think about the fact Hermione was pressed into him and her hair smelled great.

 _Not now. Not now_ , Draco told himself furiously. 

“What has happened to you? How did you sustain those injuries?”

Hagrid stared at the woman, then picked up the dragon steak and slapped it back on his face. 

“Had a bit of an accident,” Hagrid mumbled.

“What sort of accident?”

“I tripped.”

“You tripped.”

“Yeah. It was a long way down.”

“Where have you been?” Umbridge demanded. “Term started more than two months ago. Another teacher has had to cover your classes. None of your colleagues has been able to give me any information as to your whereabouts. You left no address. Where. Have. You. Been?”

She said the last part very slowly and very loudly. Hagrid stared at her for a beat, cocking his head to the side like a confused dog.

“Been away for me health,” he said, sounding as if that was the stock answer to be given to strangers. 

And oh, it was a bad one given his state. Umbridge jumped on that right away, of course. 

“Your health? You look as if you’ve been run over by a dragon,” she shrieked.

Hagrid backed up a bit, running into the closed door. “I fell.”

“You fell. After your trip for your health? What did you need, a bit of fresh air?”

“Yeah,” Hagrid said. “Yeh know—”

“You’re a gamekeeper. Fresh air must be so hard to come by up here,” Umbridge said sweetly.

“Needed mountain air.”

If Draco’s hand wasn’t over Hermione’s mouth still (it was?), Draco would have hit himself in the head. 

“Mountain air? What’s so special about mountain air?”

“Dunno. Friend suggested I head to the mountains for the summer to clear out my lungs.”

“Your lungs are full?”

“Had a bit of a run in with a forest fire,” Hagrid swiftly lied. “Got some smoke in me lungs.”

“A forest fire?”

“Yeah. In the forest. The one located behind me?” Hagrid offered, pointing in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

“I wasn’t aware it burned down.”

“It didn’. Stopped it, didn’ I?”

“And got smoke in your lungs.”

“Yeah. So, went to get some clean mountain air. In France. With me friend.”

Hermione hit Draco on the head for him. Or to get him to remove his hand—which he did. 

“In France? You’ve been in France?”

“Yeah. Magical mountain air. Cleans the lungs out.”

Hermione gasped again, making Draco clamp his hand over her mouth once more. Harry punched her in the side and gave her a scolding look. 

“Where is this place?” Umbridge said, pulling out her clipboard form her purse.

“Near LaSalette,” Hagrid said, pronouncing it perfectly. 

“And it’s in the mountains?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda famous in the Muggle world too,” Hagrid went on happily. “There’s this big church there and—”

“You only went to France? Not elsewhere in the mountains?”

Hagrid looked massively confused. “Why’d I go else where when the healin’ air was in LaSalette?”

Umbridge pressed her lips together, looking at Hagrid coldly. She lowered the clipboard into her purse and crooked her arm higher to hold her handbag closer to her body. 

“I shall, of course, be informing the Ministry of your late return.”

“Dumbledore was aware—”

“You ought to know too that as High Inquisitor,” Umbridge began, making Hagrid fall silent, “it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect all my fellow teachers. So I dare say we shall meet again soon enough.”

“Righ’,” Hagrid agreed, nodding. 

Umrbidge made a shooing motion at Hagrid. It took Hagrid a moment to realize she was shooing him out of the way. Once Hagrid had moved and opened the door for her, Umbridge marched out of the cabin. Hagrid turned and watched her walk off before he shut the door. He turned around and said, “Okay, you lot, explain her.”

Harry yanked off the Cloak.

“She is a….a…a…” Harry struggled for a polite way to say the woman was a complete, utter cow. 

Hermione yanked Draco’s hand off her mouth and leapt to her feet. 

“She is a nightmare. The Ministry is insisting on interfering at Hogwarts. She doesn’t let us do magic in class and the textbook she’s set is an embarrassment to all books in the world,” Hermione ranted, her hair getting bushier and bushier. “She and the Minister made up the _High Inquisitor_ position to simply terrorize the teachers into teaching what they want. It’s supposedly supposed to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, but honestly! There are none here!”

“Trelawney,” Harry coughed.

“She is here for a reason. Dumbledore wouldn’t keep her on if she was terrible,” Hermione insisted. “Just because we did not see eye to eye—”

“Hermione, you walked out of her class in a fit of anger,” Draco reminded her.

“Oh, shut it,” Hermione snapped. 

“Uh, what sort of things were you planning to cover this year?” Harry asked, cutting off Draco’s retort. 

“Oh, don’ you worry abou’ that, I’ve got a great load o’ lessons planned,” Hagrid assured enthusiastically. “I’ve bin keepin’ a couple o’ creatures saved few yer OWL year, you wait, they’re somthin’ really special. Too bad yeh gonna miss it, Draco.” 

Draco gave Hagrid a smile. The only lesson that was worth anything happened to be the first one and Draco wasn’t all that sorry to miss meeting the Threstals. 

“Special in what manner?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“I’m not sayin’,” Hagrid grinned. “I don’ want ter spoil the surprise.” 

“Hagrid, Professor Umbridge is a by the book kind of teacher. She won’t be happy if you bring anything dangerous to class.” 

“Dangerous? Don’ be silly, I wouldn’ give yeh anythin’ dangerous!”

“Hagrid, you’ve got to pass Umbridge’s inspection, and to do that it would be best if she saw you teaching us how to look after porlocks, how to tell the difference between knarls and hedgehogs, and things of that sort,” Hermione said. 

“But tha’s not very interestin’, Hermione,” Hagrid said, giving her a strange look. “The stuff I’ve got’s much more impressive, I’ve bin bringin’ ‘em on fer years, I reckon I’ve got the on’y domestic heard in Britain—”

“Oh, Hagrid,” Hermione sighed, her hair suddenly loosing volume. 

“He’s not going to teach anything dull,” Draco said as Hagrid continued to talk about the threstels, without saying what he actually was talking about. 

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Hermione insisted as Harry gave a massive yawn, followed by Hagrid. “I’ll plan his lessons for him if I have to. I don’t care if she throws out Trelawney, but she’s not taking Hagrid.”

Draco gave her a look, but turned to Harry and said, “Best we get going before you two fall asleep.”

“Yeah, it’s bin a long day an’ it’s late,” Hagrid agreed, patting Harry on the shoulder and making his knees give out. Harry landed in a heap on the floor with a thud. “Oh, sorry.” Hagrid pulled Harry back to his feet. “Look, don’ worry about me. I’ve got really good stuff planned fer yer lessons now that I’m back. Now, get back to the castle an’ don’ forget ter wipe yer footprints out behind yeh!”

“Will do,” Draco said, bundling Hermione and Harry towards the door. Hermione crammed her hat over her hair before Harry threw the Cloak back over them and they made their way out. As they made their way back through the thickening snow, Hermione and Draco both cast Obliteration Charms behind them as they went to erase any trace of them. It was slow going with the three of them under the Cloak once more and casting charms. Draco was rather proud of the fact he and Hermione had completely made it look as if no one had walked out to Hagrid’s hut. The snow around Hogwarts was completely untouched.

“You realize you erased her footprints too, don’t you?” Harry asked.

Draco cursed darkly and Hermione whacked him on the back of the head.


	14. Snake Eyes

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Hermione and Harry plowed through the snow Sunday morning to see Hagrid. Draco remained behind, mostly because he knew it was useless. Hagrid would do as he wished, no matter what Hermione and Harry said, so Draco chose to finish up his five foot Potions essay and go over Harry’s to make sure he didn’t regress into waffling on about Muggle things as he was apt to do to take up room. While this brilliantly worked with Bins’ essays, Snape was not likely to fail to notice Harry was no longer writing about Potions and now talking about Muggle Oil. 

The pair returned after lunch, both wet up to their knees and shivering. 

“So?” Draco asked as they both sat down across from him at the brooding table in the corner. (It was the only open table as everyone was inside due to the snow.) “Planned all his lessons?”

“I tried,” Hermione sighed, giving a complicated wave that made her robes steam. “He wasn’t even there when we first arrived.”

“We were there a half hour before he came stumping out of the forest,” Harry said, as Hermione waved her wand at him, making his robes steam dry. 

Draco quirked an eyebrow.

“Have any idea what he’s hiding? He wouldn’t say,” Harry complained. “I have a feeling it’s not Monday’s lesson.”

“It’s not.”

“Monday’s lesson?”

“Threstral,” Draco said. Harry nodded. Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “They’re honestly not dangerous. They have a bad wrap because no one can see them—”

“Unless you’ve seen death,” Hermione quietly finished. “He looked more beat up so I doubt he was visiting them. If they pull our carriages they are not beating up Hagrid.”

“Nope,” Draco popped. “He spends the entire year looking like that, so whatever it is he is hiding, it will never like him much.”

Harry groaned. “This is just what we need.”

* * *

“The only highlight of the whole thing,” Harry said Monday after he’d had Care of Magical Creatures, “was when Umbridge did her stupid little cough, Hagrid honestly thought there was something wrong with a thestral.”

“And the worst?” Draco mildly asked.

Harry gave Draco a dark look. Draco tried to look innocent.

“You know what happened.”

“Well, let’s see. Umbridge likely spoke to him as if he was deaf and stupid, then asked leading questions to Slytherins, right?”

Harry nodded. 

“She was worst than usual. And she simply egged the Slytherins on,” Harry complained. “You were a right git, you know that?”

Draco startled and stared at Harry.

“I mean, if you were like Nott. Did you fall to the ground laughing?”

“No. Parkinson did, though.”

“They both did.”

Draco sniffed in distaste. “I won’t deny I was a git then. I’ve changed, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t like gits.”

“Aw, you like me?”

Harry slugged Draco in the shoulder. 

“How long does Hagrid last?”

“Till we’re talking OWLs.”

“Oh, well, that’s good, I guess.”

“Yes, but this time he might not last as long. Or he might last longer, if Dumbledore doesn’t go on the run.”

“What?”

Draco shook his head. “Did you read what was happening this year at all?”

“Yeah. There was a lot!”

Draco shook his head, rolling his eyes and flopping his hair out of his face. “We caught Potter’s little defense club and there was a list of members pinned to the wall. It was called Dumbledore’s Army, just what the Ministry feared Dumbledore was doing.”

Harry snored.

“I wasn’t there, but per the rumor mill and later the _Daily Prophet_ , Dumbledore admitted he was building an army and when the Minister went to have him arrested, he…took out everyone in the room and vanished in a cloud of smoke or something.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Yeah. Had to keep Potter in school,” Draco reminded Harry. “Potter was in the office, along with the snitch, but she didn’t remember anything and stopped talking. The curse Granger put on that parchment…she never did loose the pimples that spelled ‘snitch’ out on her face.”

“Wow. Mean.”

“Yes.”

Clearly, Harry was unaware Hermione had used the same spell on the parchment they’d created of the members of their club. 

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Harry proclaimed. “Umbridge knows we’ve got a chess club. She’s been to it.”

“You also didn’t call the group Dumbledore’s Army.”

“No, just Dumbledore’s Muggle-Loving Chess Club.”

Draco snorted. “Yes, true, but no one actually calls it that. Let’s head to the greenhouses before we’re more late than we already are.”

Harry cursed, turned around, and headed back out into the snow. 

* * *

December brought more snow, if possible, to the grounds. It also brought more homework for the fifth years. Draco noticed he was drowning in an avalanche of homework and the extra prefect duties as Christmas approached. Draco felt as if he never saw his friends. He honestly looked forward to DMCC when the coin burned the last week before the holidays simply because he’d be able to see Hermione and Harry in the same location. He’d been skipping out on regular Chess Club, but he’d never skip out on DMCC, so he went down early with Harry to get the room ready. 

“Should we decorate for the holidays?” Harry asked, looking around the empty room. He scrunched up his face and closed his eyes and suddenly the room was decorated. Hundreds of little lights were strung across the ceiling and there was a huge tree decorated in gold and red baubles in the corner. Harry grinned, putting his hands on his hips.

“Brilliant,” Draco agreed. He decided to see if the room would work for him, so he thought they needed snow. Suddenly there was never melting snow in all the corners and decorating the ledges all over the room. 

“Why do I keep forgetting wizards have this stuff?” Harry asked, sticking his hand into the snow. “It’s awesome.”

“Mistletoe?” asked a dreamy voice from the doorway. “Good thinking. It’s often infested with Nargles.”

“Of course it is,” Harry agreed. “Why is it here? I didn’t think of it.”

“Nor I,” Draco agreed.

Luna smiled dreamily, breezing past the boys. Neither could ask Luna if she had thought up the mistletoe, as Johnson, Bell, and the other Gyffindor Chaser arrived. All three were breathless and looked very cold. 

“Well, we’ve replaced you,” Johnson said dully, pulling her cloak off and throwing it over a coat rack that appeared. 

“Replaced me?” Harry asked, looking baffled. 

“Yes. We needed a new Seeker and two Beaters. Why didn’t you come out?” Johnson wheeled around and stared at Draco. “I know you play.”

“Chaser. I play Chaser.”

“But, you could be a Seeker.”

“I’m too tall.”

“You’re skinny.”

“Angelina,” whined Bell. “You don’t say that to boys!”

“Yes, we all wish to be fat,” Draco snarked. 

“He’s built like a Seeker, only he’s taller than normal.”

“He’s more taller than normal,” Harry muttered under his breath. Draco elbowed him. “So, who’s the new Seeker?”

“Ginny Weasley,” Bell answered. 

Harry nodded. “Good choice.”

“You knew she played? I didn’t. I guess it makes sense, seeing as all her brothers except two play.”

“She small, light, likely fast on a broom,” Harry listed off.

“Yeah. I want to know where she got a Firebolt,” one of the twins said loudly when they entered. “Didn’t Umbridge take your broom?”

“Yeah.”

“I lent Ginny mine,” Draco offered.

The twins cast Draco a look of betrayal.

“What? I’d have lent it to either of you, but you never asked.”

“And she did?”

“Actually, yes, she did.”

“Who’d you get to replace those idiots?” Harry asked, jerking his thumb at the twins, who both looked outraged to be called _idiots_. 

“Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper,” the other Chaser whose name Draco couldn’t remember answered. “Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the clots that showed up…”

The arrival of Hermione, Zabini and the Slytherin girls, and Neville brought the depressing discussion to an end. Within five more minutes, the room was full and Harry moved to the front to start the meeting. 

“Okay,” Harry called out and quiet fell over the room. “I thought this evening we should go over what we’ve done so far. You know, last meeting before the hols and there’s no point in starting anything new right before a three week break.”

“We’re not doing anything new?” sneered the annoying Hufflepuff. (Honestly, how did this guy get into Hufflepuff? Weren’t they supposed to be nice?)

“I’d rather not you forget it over the holidays,” Harry ground out. 

“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come.”

“We’re all really sorry Harry didn’t tell you, then,” one of the twins said loudly.

Several people sniggered. Harry for some reason turned pink and shook his head quickly.

“We can practice in pairs,” Harry began. “We’ll start with the Impediment Jinx, just for ten minutes, then we can get cushions and try Stunning again.”

Draco paired up with Neville, who had improved beyond all recognition.  It was truly amazing to be witness to such vast improvement. He was almost a challenge for Draco to duel against. During the ten minutes they worked on the Impediment Jinx, Neville managed to freeze Draco almost ten times. 

After ten minutes, they laid out cushions all over the floor and starting Stunning one another. The space got larger so they could all work on this at the same time, which Draco didn’t even notice till he thought he was farther way from Hermione than he’d been when they started. Neville wasn’t as good at stunning as he was at impedimenting, as instead of stunning Draco, he kept stunning Padma, but it was closer than his usual miss, as Padma was next to Draco rather than two people over. 

“You’re all getting really good!” Harry called out, beaming. “When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff— maybe even Patronuses.”

There was a murmur of excitement and Draco felt a swoosh in his stomach. That would be something completely new for him, as well as something he was desperate to learn. 

“So, you’re heading home for the holidays?” Hermione asked as people began to clear out after the meeting. 

“Yes. Where are you going?” 

“Skiing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Skiing,” Hermione said, turning red. “You do know what that is, right?”

“Yes, I just cannot see you doing it,” Draco admitted. 

“You know what it is?”

“Yes,” Draco said, looking confused. “Wizards don’t do it, but I’ve lived with Harry for five years. He’s enlightened me to the ways of Muggles. Also, Sirius thinks it’s hilariously fun to strap pieces of wood to his feet and ski down the stairs.”

“Skis aren’t made of wood anymore,” Hermione sniffed. 

Draco smirked down at her, turning to call Harry to join them only to find Cho still hanging around eyeing Harry who was speaking to Atlanta. 

“Let’s go,” Draco murmured, taking Hermione by the elbow. “I’ve got a feeling Harry might just get a girlfriend.”

“What?” Hermione asked, turning to look over her shoulder as Draco dragged her out of the back room into the front room. 

It was loud in the room, between the chess players and chess pieces. The room wasn’t decorated for the holidays, but there was a definite feeling of cheer in the room as the members all played. Ronald Weasley, who opted to run the Chess Club tonight, was hollering at the top of his lungs what might have been a Christmas carol. 

“Poor Tom,” Hermione whispered as Draco led her through the room. 

Draco snickered. Poor Tom indeed. 

* * *

Draco waited up for Harry. At half passed the hour Harry walked in looking dazed. Draco was seated by the fire tonight, mostly because the students were in bed or scrambling to complete various homework assignments before break so they were taking up the tables. Draco was working through his Transfiguration homework in his lap. 

“So?” Draco asked when Harry flopped face first onto the rug in front of the fire by Draco’s feet. 

Harry half-heartedly shrugged. 

“That bad, huh?” 

Harry lifted his head up and stared at Draco.

“I’m not blind, Harry James Potter. And I already know something happened.”

“WHY?” Harry moaned, rolling over dramatically. “Where did she get the idea I liked her?”

“Don’t you?”

“She’s nice, but I don’t think I like her that way.”

“Uh, okay.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I don’t like her that way,” Harry corrected. “No. I don’t like her.”

He made a face that no girl would wish to see on a guy’s face after she’d kissed him. 

“What was wrong with it?”

Harry made a series of faces before he said, “Wet.”

“Wet. Well, kisses can be wet if tongues are involved.”

Harry made a truly disgusted face and gagged. 

Yeah, he didn’t like Cho at all. Or kissing clearly. 

“No, she was crying,” Harry clarified. “She kept her mouth closed.”

Harry looked immensely pleased by this fact. 

“You were gone a half hour because you made her cry? Your kissing skills are that dismal?”

“NO! I didn’t make her cry! She was crying before she kissed me.”

“She was crying in anticipation of kissing you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Did she speak to you before she kissed you?”

“Yeah.”

“About?”

“Cedric.”

“Ah.”

“It was a total disaster. She was crying, I had no clue what was going on, and then she kept getting closer and closer…”

Harry wore a horrified expression. 

“And then bam, lips on lips, and tears all over the place,” Draco joked. 

Harry’s face suddenly went blank. “That was my first kiss. And it was horrible.”

“Some are,” Draco assured.

“Was yours?”

Draco shuddered. “At the time, I didn’t think so. But what she turned into…”

“Oh? Don’t tell me it was Parkinson,” Harry said, wrinkling up his nose and looking like he was going to puke.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

Draco looked back at his homework determinedly. Harry was silent for a long time before he asked, “So, uh, have you…er…uh…this round…you know?”

“No,” Draco answered. “I don’t fancy anyone.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. We’re all younger than you. How old are you now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track really since I’m stuck as a teenager for the time being,” Draco replied. 

“Well, you were seventeen when you went back to being eleven, right?”

“Yes. A month short of eighteen.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go with eighteen then. Since you went back to your birthday. So…” Harry trailed off. He was quiet for a minute before he shouted, “Twenty-two!”

Several people looked over to see what had Harry so excited, but turned away when they only saw Harry and Draco doing nothing of worth. 

“Great. I’m twenty-two. Much too old to be kissing anyone here.”

“Or young,” Harry said, waggling his eyebrows. 

Draco threw a pillow at his head. 

* * *

Screaming woke Draco up from a dead sleep. He shot up, looking around wildly only to find Tom Riddle inches from his face. This made Draco shriek and scramble away till he fell out of bed. 

That was when he realized Harry was twisting up a storm in his bed, almost like he was a snake slithering along the ground. His face was a mask of pain. He was the source of the screaming that had awoken Draco. 

“I can’t wake him,” Tom whispered urgently as Harry screamed louder. 

Harry normally used silencing charms on his curtains, but in his quest to get to Draco, Tom had somehow left the curtains open so the entire dorm could hear Harry. 

“Harry!” Neville shouted. 

“Stay here,” Draco ordered before vaulting into action. 

Draco threw open Harry’s curtains fully and pinned Harry to the bed. Harry tried to twist out of Draco’s grasp, but Draco was bigger and stronger.

“HARRY! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” Draco bellowed at him. 

Harry’s eyes shot opened. For a moment they were brilliant red, like rubies, before they reverted to emerald. Harry himself began to turn green. Draco let him go and got off in time for Harry to roll over and vomit over the edge of the mattress.

“He’s really ill,” Neville whispered gravely. 

“Sur…Siri…ius…” Harry panted, looking worse. “Sn…sn…ake.” 

Draco could have kicked himself. How could he forget?

“Let’s go,” Draco ordered, grabbing Harry by the wrist. He reached into Harry’s bed blindly and found the cube. He put the cube in his pocket, went back to his own bed, grabbed his wand and Tom, and pulled Harry towards the door. Harry had no motor control, so it was a long trip.

“Draco, where are you going?”

“Neville, go tell McGonagall Harry’s had a nightmare and we’re going to see Dumbledore.”

“Okay,” Neville said, sounding unsure.

Neville hurried out of the room, followed by Draco dragging Harry. The stairs were a challenge, but they made it without toppling down.   

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Draco whispered as he and Harry exited the portal and into the cold hallways. The temperature seemed to do Harry some good, as the color slowly went from green to pink. 

“I was the snake. I bit Sirius,” Harry whispered, getting his feet to move properly. They began to make better progress. “There was so much blood. Oh, god. What if he dies?”

“He won’t. Mr Weasley did not die, Sirius Black definitely will not die,” Draco insisted as they turned a corner. 

“Will we get in trouble for going without McGonagall?”

“No. I think she knows that if you had a nightmare and I took you to see Dumbledore it has to do with Marv.”

Harry fell silent.

Since Harry’s feet were working, they wound up running the rest of the way to Dumbledore’s office. 

“Fizzing Whizbee,” Draco shouted as they jogged to the gargoyle. (The new Head Boy was an idiot who would brag about anything, so Draco had been able to trick the headmaster’s password out of him—which he’d done just for this night.) The statue sprang to life and leapt aside. The wall split into two and revealed the stone staircase. Harry got in front of Draco at this point and sprinted at top speed up the twisting stairs with Draco hot on his heels. By the time they reached the top, Draco was dizzy. Harry grabbed onto a brass knocker shaped like a griffin, but froze when he realized there were quite a number of voices sounding behind the door.

“Who the hell is he talking to at this hour?” Harry whispered, looking worried.

“Who cares,” Draco said, pushing Harry aside and rapping three times with the knocker. The voices ceased abruptly and the door opened by itself, revealing Dumbledore’s office free of people and mostly dark. Drumbledore came into the dim light and looked massively confused to find two students at his door. 

“What are you two doing up at this hour? And here?” he asked, looking honestly confused.

“Harry had a nightmare,” Draco stated. “Well, nightmare isn’t the right word, but fitting perhaps.”

Dumbledore’s eyes lit with understanding.

“Get in,” he ordered.

Harry stumbled in and began talking. “It wasn’t an ordinary dream. I mean, I was sleeping, but it was real, what happened was real! I saw…Sirius has been attacked by a giant snake.”

The words reverberated in the air, sounding slightly ridiculous and kind of comical. Dumbledore was white faced and completely serious, so Draco decided not to let loose the hysterical laughter bubbling in his chest.

“How did you see this?” Dumbledore quietly asked, eye still boring into Harry’s. 

“Inside my head?” Harry asked, sounding kind of confused. 

“You misunderstand. I mean…can you remember—er—where you were positioned as you watched this attack?”

“I was the snake.”

Dumbledore stared at Draco for some reason. Draco made big eyes and shrugged. If Dumbledore didn’t know how this worked, Draco didn’t think he ought to tell them how they were guessing it worked. Dumbledore spent a good long while staring at Draco before he asked, “Sirius is injured?”

“Yes! Dying! Right now!” Harry angrily shouted. 

Dumbledore stood up quickly, releasing Draco from his gaze.  Draco sagged.

“Everard?” Dumbledore asked sharply. “And you too, Dilys!”

A sallow-faced wizard with short, black bangs and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both who seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.

“You were listening?”

The wizard nodded and the witch said, “Naturally.”

“The man is clearly a Black,” Dumbledore said. “Black hair and devilishly handsome.”

The witch snorted.

“Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people.”

Both nodded and moved sideways in their frames, but instead of emerging in neighboring pictures, they vanished. Their frames were just blank swaths of nothingness. 

“You’re saying the Head of the House of Black is injured and near death?!” shouted one of the paintings. 

“Yes, Phineas,” Dumbledore said. 

Draco looked up to see a familiar, clever-looking wizard walk out of his painting in a huff. 

“He will alert your mother and Regulus,” Dumbledore stated plainly. At Harry’s confused look he explained, “Everard, Dilys, and Phineas are all former Heads of Hogwarts, Everard and Dilys two of the most celebrated. Their renown is such that they both have portraits hanging in other important Wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere.”

“Phineas’ other painting is at Grimmauld Place?” Draco guessed.

“In your bedroom, Mr Malfoy.”

“Oh god,” Draco moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Where are Everard and Dilys’ other portraits?” Harry asked. 

“One second,” Dumbledore said, going over to his phoenix. Fawkes awoke immediately. He stretched his head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes. 

“We will need,” Dumbledore said quietly to the bird, “a warning.”

There was a flash of fire and the bird was gone. 

Dumbledore turned and swooped over to the table with all the silver gizmos. He grabbed one and carried it to his desk. He sat down facing the boys, who were both still standing. He gently tapped the thing with the tip of his wand. He studied the instrument as it tinkled into life. It gave off tiny puffs of pale green smoke, which made Dumbledore furrow his brow. The tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thicken and coiled into a serpent, who opened its mouth wide. 

“Naturally, naturally,” murmured Dumbledore, eyes still on the stream of smoke. “But in essence divided?”

Harry looked at Draco for explanation, but Draco shrugged. 

The smoke snake split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satisfaction, Dumbledore sighed and gave the gizmo a tap with his wand. The smoke faded and the tinkling stopped. Dumbledore replaced the thing at the table with the other silver things. As he did, Everard reappeared, panting slightly. 

“Dumbledore!”

“What news?” Dumbledore asked, moving across the room to Everard’s painting.

“I yelled until someone came running,” the wizard reported. He grabbed the curtain behind him and began to mop his brow. “I said I’d heard something moving downstairs— they weren’t sure they wanted to believe me but went down to see. There are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyways, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn’t look good, he’s covered in blood. I ran along to Elfrida Cragg’s portrait to get a good view as they left and it was definitely Sirius Black. You should have just said, Dumbledore. I’d know him anywhere.”

“Yes, yes. I forgot how often he was in here,” Dumbledore sighed. “Good. I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive soon then.”

As if the sound of her name called her, Dilys appeared, coughing and sinking into her arm chair. “Yes, they’ve taken him to St Mungo’s. Poor man. He looked so bad. Such a beautiful face lost.”

Harry paled. “His face? I don’t remember the face being bitten.”

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said. He put a fist to his mouth and contemplated a moment. He glanced around his office before heading to the cupboard behind Draco and Harry. He rummaged around before pulling out an old, dinged, blackened kettle. He raised his wand and muttered “ _Portus.”_ The kettle trembled and glowed an eye shattering shade of blue before reverting to its original form. 

“Narcissa is ready for them,” Phineas drawled. He studied his nails for a moment before peaking to see if Dumbledore was watching, which he was not. Dumbledore was looking around at the papers on his desk. Phineas looked as if he was about to say something else when there was a flash of flame in the middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather. 

“Well, time to go. Umbridge knows you both are out of bed.”

Dumbledore held out the kettle, which Harry and Draco grabbed onto.

“You’ve both used a Portkey before, yes?” 

The boys nodded.

“Well, then, on the count of three. One…two…three.”

A powerful jerk behind his navel and the ground vanishing signaled the Portkey working. Draco closed his eyes and moved his feet. Draco landed softly on the other end to the sound of something heavy crash land near by. 

“You forgot to move your feet,” his mother quietly said, hurrying forward. 

Draco opened his eyes to find Harry sprawled out on the ground, looking as if he’d gone ten rounds with a troll. Narcissa Malfoy, dressed in what appeared to be hurried donned day robes, knelt down besides Harry, checking him over with her eyes as she aided him to stand. 

“What has happened to you?” she asked quietly. 

“I…I…I don’t know,” Harry whispered, rubbing his forehead. 

Seeing this action, Narcissa frowned deeply. “Phineas said that Sirius has been wounded in action. Bitten by a huge snake while in the Ministry?”

Harry’s mouth worked but no words came out. Narcissa drew him to her and hugged him, looking to Draco to explain. 

“He had a…vision? Dream? We’re not all that sure,” Draco began, then told her all he knew about what had happened since he’d woken (leaving Tom out). 

“It’s the scar,” Narcissa whispered. “I was concerned…”

She trailed off, hugging Harry to the point Draco knew he’d have trouble breathing, but Harry made no move to try to disengage himself from Draco’s mother. 

“Is Regulus here?” Draco asked. 

“No. He’s out on Order business,” Narcissa said. “I sent Dobby to fetch him. St. Mungo’s will inform him no matter where he might be, but he must be here.”

No sooner had she spoken there was a loud crack and Dobby appeared with Regulus, the latter more pale than usual. 

“He was alive, right?” Regulus asked, sounding and looking young and scared. 

“Yes,” Draco answered when Harry continued to hide his face in Narcissa’s robes. 

Regulus nodded, sitting down hard on the bench that went along the wall of the room they were in. Draco looked around and found they were standing in the kitchen. 

“Why are we in the kitchen?”

“It’s the only room Dumbledore likely knows well enough to send you via an illegal Portkey,” Regulus replied. 

“You should go to bed. It’ll be suspicious if the messenger from St Mungo’s finds you here and dressed for…”

Regulus was indeed dressed strangely for someone of his status, as he was wearing Muggle clothing. Regulus nodded, standing and vanished with a loud pop. Narcissa finally let go of Harry and insisted he drink something, which Dobby produced and handed to Harry. Harry downed whatever they gave him and slumped on the floor. 

“Dobby, take him to his room.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Dobby said, grabbing Harry and cracking away. 

“You drugged him?”

“Yes. He appears as if he’s not slept in weeks. Does he sleep?”

“Not well,” Draco admitted. “I’d not really noticed since he never sleeps well.”

Narcissa hummed her annoyance. “I’d tell you to go to bed, but I have a feeling you’d not be able to go back to sleep.”

“No. Likely not.”

“What do you know?”

Draco startled. “What do you mean?”

“About Harry’s scar. You are not surprised at all that he has visions of what Tom Riddle is doing.”

The Tom Riddle within Draco’s pocket made a noise. Draco looked around to make sure he appeared as if he didn’t know where the noise had come from. 

“Do you and Harry suspect what it truly is? The scar?”

Draco stared at his mother. 

“Tell her,” Tom’s voice whispered from behind Draco’s head. Draco had no clue how Tom had gotten out or why he would risk it. 

Draco cleared his throat. 

“We think…well, we think it’s a horcrux.”

Draco waited for his mother to look horrified he knew this, but she simply regarded him as if he was an interesting conversationalist. 

“How did you come to this conclusion?”

“Harry’s friend Tom put him on the trail,” Draco decided to admit. “And, uh, Regulus seemed to think Harry ought to know what he was carrying around.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I assumed he might have with how calm you are about Harry having visions as he is.”

Draco shifted on his feet, waiting for his mother to react other than to keep staring at the ceiling. 

“How do you feel about Harry being a horcrux?”

“Horrible. It’s not fair,” Draco said instantly. “Do you know how to destroy one?”

“Not one that is contained within a human being,” Narcissa replied sadly. 

Before either could say anything else on the topic, Regulus appeared in the doorway, dressed in plain wizard robes. His hair was in disarray, looking as if he’d just woken. 

“You best come along,” Regulus said to Narcissa. “While the House Elves of St Mungo’s might be onto us, the rest of the lot are not and it’d strange for me to show up without you. In their eyes, you are Sirius’s closest relative since Harry’s underage.” 

“We’ll be fine, Mother,” Draco assured. “I’m going to go upstairs and maybe watch some telly.” 

Narcissa appeared unsure for a moment before she nodded. “Let me get my cloak. Do not leave this house, or let anyone in.”

Draco nodded.

“Do not answer the fireplace either,” Regulus advised. 

Narcissa hugged Draco before exiting the room. Regulus followed in her wake. After Draco was sure Narcissa and Regulus were gone, he pulled the block out of his pocket and tossed it at the table. 

“Come out,” Draco ordered. 

“Paintings.”

“Oh, fine. We’ll go to my room,” Draco conceded, picking up the block and pocketing it. He eyed the painting of a bunch of wizards cooking that rested on the wall above the stove. They hurriedly began to cook when they found Draco staring. 

“There’s a Hogwarts Headmaster in your room.”

Draco made a noise of frustration. 

“Then where, oh great one, do you want to go?”

“Harry’s room doesn't have any paintings that can spy on us,” Tom relayed. “All wall hangings are Muggle.” 

“What about the library?”

“True. Your mother removed the paintings because they were too loud,” Tom reported. “The only place free of paintings are the bedrooms, save yours, and the library.”

“Let me guess, he wouldn’t leave?”

“Yes. If Regulus hadn’t been around, I have a feeling they would have put you in his room instead of what used to be a study.”

Draco grumbled under his breath and headed for the stairs. After a long climb, he entered Harry’s room. Harry was tucked in tightly to the bed, fast asleep. Dobby was no where to be seen, but had clearly set the room up for good sleeping as it was cold and dark in the room, yet not too cold. Tom poured himself out of Draco’s pocket the moment they were in the room, heading straight for Harry. He loomed over Harry for a solid minute before all the tension drained out of his body and he slumped. Draco, though he wasn’t sure how he knew this, remembered Tom needed sleep like a normal human being and likely due to Harry had not been getting it. Without uttering a word of farewell, Draco set the block on the desk, slunk out of the dark room, and quietly shut the door. 


	15. Secrets are Stupid

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Draco fell asleep in the library, not wanting to deal with the painting in his room. The scion of the Black Family had been mortally wounded in the line of Order duty and the painting living in Draco’s room would want answers that Draco failed to have. So, Draco went to the library, as he didn’t feel like bed crashing any of his relatives. 

He was there when Dobby woke him to tell him his mother and Regulus had returned and were taking breakfast in the dinning room. Stretching, Draco oozed himself out of the overstuff chair where he’d fallen asleep. He ruffled his already messy hair and decided to just go down as is, till he realized he was in his school pjs. He trudged up the stairs to his room, found the painting in his room empty (of course), changed, then headed for the dining room. 

Regulus looked glum, but his mother appeared normal. She’d changed from her hastily donned robes and had smoothed her hair into a proper hairstyle. She looked up at Draco’s entrance, frowning a little when she took in his lack of proper grooming. Draco ignored her, sitting in his seat. His meal appeared and Draco frowned at the sight of the food he wasn’t all that interested in eating. He reached for the pot of coffee.

“So, how is he?” Draco ventured to inquire. 

“Stable,” Regulus answered, blowing upward at a wayward hair that wasn’t standing up due to the lack of styling products. “He’s going to be fine, if they can keep him in the bed long enough to rest and heal.”

Narcissa shook her head and let out a long suffering sigh. 

“You and Harry can go see him later this afternoon,” Narcissa assured. 

“Is he alone now?”

“No. Lupin showed up shortly after we did,” Regulus said, smirking and raising his eyebrows at Draco before going back to his breakfast. 

“Uh, okay,” Draco said. “When will Harry wake?”

“When his body has decided he is rested,” Narcissa answered. 

Draco frowned. That wasn’t how Dreamless Sleep worked, or any sleeping potion he was familiar with. Regulus dropped his silverware, causing everyone to stare at him.

“You gave him that?”

“I am not an idiot. I can read Lily’s notes as well as anyone else.”

“Lily?” Draco faintly asked.

“How did you even get those?”

“They were in the Order’s belongings that I took into my home upon letting them set up shop in the kitchen.”

“It’s not technically your home,” Regulus said without heat.

Narcissa sniffed.

“Those weren’t Ministry approved,” Regulus said and Draco gasped.

Narcissa leveled Regulus with a cold look. “We both know why they weren’t Ministry approved.”

Regulus sighed deeply. “How many of her inventions weren’t Ministry approved due to her blood status?”

“One hundred and sixty-four,” Narcissa said coldly. “Severus and I have been going through them all. He has deemed most of them perfectly safe for their purpose. He brewed the potion I gave Harry last night, so do not worry I was unable to do it.”

“I wasn’t worried you brewed it improperly, simply surprised you gave Harry an unapproved Potion.”

“It would have been approved had Lily Potter not created it.”

Regulus nodded sadly, picking his silverware back up. “Is there anyway to get them approved? They could be useful.”

“Not till after Riddle is dealt with,” Narcissa said. 

Draco felt like this was the kind of conversation he’d never been privy to in the last timeline. It was over his head, mostly. 

“Anything in there that could help Sirius recover faster?”

“No. Lily Potter never dealt with poisonous snake venom,” Narcissa pouted, or as close as she could to pouting. 

* * *

Harry didn’t wake up till the afternoon, well after lunch. He wanted to hear all about Sirius, which Narcissa patiently shared with him while Dobby fed Harry leftovers. As soon as Harry was finished eating, they bundled up and headed out for St Mungo’s. 

“We’re walking?” Draco asked as they exited the house. 

Draco had been somewhat confused on why Narcissa was dressed in Muggle clothes, but if they were walking that explained that. 

“Yes. We’re to meet Nymphadora and Alistair Moody,” Narcissa informed the boys, leading them down the block where two people waited. Mad-Eye Moody wore a bowler hat over his magical eyes, which without a doubt he could see through, while Tonks wore her own face and usual hair of bubblegum pink. Narcissa gave her niece a look when they were close enough and asked, “I thought the point was to not stick out.”

Tonk grinned and said, “I won’t. Trust me.”

“Let’s go. Ever been on the underground, milady?” Moody asked. 

“No,” Narcissa admitted. 

“It’s fun,” Regulus announced. 

Narcissa did not seem surprised that Regulus had ridden the underground at some point in his life. 

Tonks peppered Harry with questions about his “vision,” which Harry unhappily answered till they reached the train stop and had to buy tickets, travel underground, and get on the train. Draco had never been on a Muggle train before. He’d never had a reason, nor the urge to ride around on Muggle transport. Harry sidled up next to Draco as they went through the ticket taking things. He reminded Draco to take his ticket as the machine spit it out, then grabbed Draco’s wrist as to not loose him in the hustle and bustle of the station. When they reached the platform, Harry still didn’t let go till they snagged seats together on the train. Draco looked around, trying his best not to look like it was his first time on an underground train. It was a bit like the train to Hogwarts, only less comfortable and more utilitarian. 

“And watch this,” Harry whispered as the train gently began to pull forward. “We’re going to get around without being thrown to and fro. No random extreme jerking or urge to later throw up or fear for your life.”

Draco gave Harry a look before gripping the near by pole as the train pulled into the next station. Harry rolled his eyes. 

The rest of the ride went by without much happening. They got off at a station in the heart of London, somewhere Draco had never been. The station was crowded with Muggles and above ground there were seemingly even more Muggles everywhere. Narcissa appeared as if she was going to have an aneurism at any moment, while Regulus kept a running commentary on what was what. 

“This is the high street,” Regulus explained, “where Muggles do the shopping. It’s so filled because it’s so close to Christmas.”

Several people passing gave Regulus strange looks. 

“Black! Shut up!” Moody snapped.

They made the rest of the way to St Mungo’s in silence. Draco had never seen the outside of St. Mungo’s before, so he was rather shocked when Moody came to a stop in front of a large, old-fashioned, red brick department store called Purge and Dowse Ltd. The whole place was shabby and run down looking, filled with chipped dummies and frizzy wigs. The large sign on the dusty doors claimed it was closed for refurbishment. Likely forever, as one Muggle muttered. 

“Right, everyone ready?” Tonk asked, beckoning them forward. She placed herself in front of a dummy with ridiculous eyelashes that were hanging off and was wearing a really ugly green thing that might have been a dress. Clustering around Tonks, she made sure they were all there before leaning forward before saying, “Wotcher. We’re here to see Sirius Black.”

The dummy gave a tiny nod and beckoned them forward with a jointed finger. Tonks seized Regulus by the arm and tugged him through while Moody shoved Harry forward at the same time Narcissa guided Draco through the glass. He was less than shocked when he found himself in the waiting room of St. Mungo’s. Harry, though, looked amazed to find himself in a waiting room and not a badly dressed dummy in sight. 

“C’mon,” Moody growled, pushing Harry forward yet again. They walked through the noisy waiting room towards the front desk. 

“Are they doctors?” Harry asked Draco quietly.

Draco racked his mind for what doctors were. He never got there, as Regulus answered.

“In a sense. We call them healers. Your mother was studying to become one,” Regulus said. “They are like your doctors as they heal us when we’re sick, but since we’re wizards, there’s quite a bit things different between the two.”

“We don’t chop each other up regularly,” Moody groused. 

Regulus sighed. 

Narcissa, meanwhile, marched towards the Inquiries desk. The others all stood off to the side.

“Doesn’t she know where he is?” Harry asked. 

“They were going to move him to a different room after we left,” Regulus explained. “Out of the…ICU?”

“Ah, okay,” Harry said, nodding in understanding while Draco had no clue what ICU stood for. 

“First floor,” Narcissa said, returning to the group. “Private room just off the Dai Llewellyn ward.” 

They all headed through some double doors and followed along a narrow corridor beyond. Harry was staring around with wide eyes as he took in everything from the famous paintings of healers to the little crystal babbles that lit the hallways hung from the ceiling. They climbed the stairs to the first floor, entering the “Creature-Induced Injuries” corridor. The second door on the right bore the words “DANGEROUS” DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES. Narcissa opened a door marked PRIVATE and led them down another short corridor, opening the door marked 1. 

“We’ll wait outside, Aunt Cissy,” Tonk said. “Don’t want too many visitors.”

Narcissa snorted while Mad-Eye growled his approval of this idea. He set himself with his back against the hallway wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions and free for all to see now. Harry bit his lip and took a step backwards, but Narcissa grabbed him and dragged him into the room. Regulus and Draco followed like normal people. 

The room was bright and airy, with a huge window that showed a view of London that could not possibly come from the actual area of London they were currently within. There were tranquil paintings on the wall, free of noisy wizards and populated with woodland animals, none of which were fighting or making loud noises. 

The patient in the room looked grumpy.

“I hate it here. Please, can’t I go back with the others? I don’t need a private room. There’s a guy who was bitten by a werewolf in my old room,” Sirius complained as Narcissa sat Harry down one of the plush chairs in the room. 

“You know why you are here,” Narcissa scolded. “You are the head of the House of Black. You cannot be in a public ward.”

Sirius pouted while Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Lovely to see you feel better,” Regulus drawled, leaning against the wall and eyeballing his elder brother. 

“Eh, it’s just a nick.”

Harry paled.

“If it was just a nick, then you’d be able to come home,” Regulus pointed out. “But, tragically, each time they remove the bandages you start bleeding to death.”

“It’s not to death. Just…more than usual.”

Harry paled further.

“Boys,” Narcissa snapped as if she’d done it a million times. Sirius and Regulus both fell quiet, sheepish looks on their handsome faces. Narcissa jerked her head at the white as a sheet Harry, who clearly Sirius had failed to notice.  

Sirius smiled, a beaming smile that reached his eyes, at his godson. “I’m fine, Harry. They found me quickly and got me out fast.”

“What did you tell them you were doing there?” Harry asked.

“I got lost,” Sirius said, winking. 

“Sirius,” Narcissa sighed. 

“What? I did,” Sirius lied. 

“I know you were down there on Order business, as do the boys because your brother babbles,” Narcissa said, shooting a glare at Regulus.

“What? Harry’s got a right to know what’s going on in his name,” Regulus insisted, folding his arms across his chest and an obstinate expression appearing on his face. “I was only a year older than him when I—”

“I know,” Narcissa cut him off sharply. 

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. 

Draco cleared his throat, “So, is Lupin talking to the werewolf?”

“Remus did speak with him before he left,” Sirius said. “What was really interesting was the woman who wouldn’t tell the Healers what bit her. Missing a good chunk of her leg and smells nasty when they change the dressings, but she refuses to tell anyone what bit her.”

“Likely because it was something illegal,” Narcissa pointed out.

“I know. Wish I could be there still. I could find out!”

Narcissa sighed deeply. 

“How’d Voldemort get the snake in there?” Harry asked, making everyone stare at him. “What?”

“We don’t know,” Regulus said. 

“He has many followers who work for the Ministry,” Narcissa said softly. “Why don’t we call him Riddle when we’re in public?”

“How about we call him Marv,” Draco suggested at seeing the look on Harry’s face.

“Marv?” Narcissa asked.

“It’s what Harry usually calls him,” Draco explained. “I can’t remember how it started.”

“Marvolo,” Harry said. “His middle name. He told him his full name second year, and I started calling him Marv.”

“I like it,” Sirius proclaimed, likely knowing full well why Harry wouldn’t want to call Voldemort Riddle. “So, yeah, Marv has minions in the Ministry, hence why we have to sit and watch the door after hours.”

Narcissa pressed her lips together. “The boys know what’s being guarded, may I?”

Regulus and Sirius exchanged looks, then looked back at their cousin. 

“It’s a prophecy about me,” Harry said, making the decision for the men in the room. “No one knows what it says, as prophecies can only be picked up by those they are made about, so either Marv or I have to walk in there and get it.”

Narcissa gave Sirius a long suffering look. “No one thought to simply let Harry go in and retrieve it?”

“Well, we’re pretty sure there’s a Death Eater working in the Department of Mysteries. Likely one who works in the prophecy department.”

“There is not,” Narcissa said, standing up suddenly. “The only Death Eater to work in the Department of Mysteries was Augustus Rookwood. Last time I checked, he was in Azkaban.” 

Draco and Sirius exchanged looks, realizing the break-out that was likely to happen soon would set Rookwood free. They needed to figure out a way into the Lastrange vault before the family escaped from Azkaban. Draco hoped they (the Order) were on that.

“You think you can just march into the Department of Mysteries and request the prophecy? Then Harry would know what it said and Marv would go after him,” Sirius reasoned.

“Marv is already after me,” Harry quietly pointed out. 

“That he is,” Regulus mournfully agreed. 

“Harry, come with me,” Naricssa said, marching out of the room. Harry scampered after her.

“This is gonna end badly,” Sirius whimpered. He looked helplessly between Draco and Regulus. Regulus went to the door, pressing his ear to it. 

“How did she get past Moody and Tonks?” Regulus asked.

“They are likely fighting in the hallway, but the door is soundproof, so we’d never hear it.”

The three men sat in silence till the door burst open and Mad Eye Moody stormed into the room ranting about insane Black women. 

“This goes against everything Dumbledore is working for!” he raved, waving his hands around. “EVERYTHING!”

Sirius shrugged. “I am bitten. I can’t chase after her.”

“Black women!” Moody scoffed. “I best go tell Dumbledore what those insane Black women are up to.”

Moody clunked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“I don’t think either of those women are insane,” Regulus observed sagely. 

“If Marv finds out…”

“He’ll go after Harry,” Draco and Regulus said in unison. 

“Which, he already has plans to do,” Regulus added. 

Draco nodded, sinking into the chair Harry had vacated. “So, if they are successful at getting the prophecy, what is Voldemort going to do this summer?”

“Doesn’t he usually do what he did the first time?” Regulus asked.

“Kind of. I don’t know what he did our first year the first time, as I was not privy as I was not there, but there was a few challenges under a three headed dog the Golden Trio took part in. All we did was corner him in a classroom and throw smelly water at him.”

Sirius snickered. “I love that story. Other than the fact you risked your lives.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. 

“Second year…it was pretty much the same, I believe. Harry, Lockhart, and I went into the bowls of the school, there was a cave in, Harry faced Marv alone and stabbed the diary with a fang. Only difference, he didn't fight the snake, as it’s his friend.”

“Third year, both Harry Potters met up with my brother in pretty much the same way?”

“Maybe?” Draco shrugged. “I am going by rumors on what happened till last year. Last year I know what happened because the first time as Father told me about the Dark Lord’s glorious return. Likely an edited version, now that I think about it.” 

“Okay. So, even if Harry hears the prophecy, he’ll likely wind up still in the Ministry fighting?” Sirius asked. 

“Or something similar,” Draco allowed. “You know, maybe even if Harry knows, Voldemort might not know he knows. My mother won’t draw attention to herself, so if Dumbledore keeps his crooked nose out of it, then maybe they can get the prophecy and be done with it and Marv is none the wiser.”

“What about the connection?” Regulus asked. “That was how Harry knew Sirius had been attacked. And Marv is sure to know about how far into his mind Harry can get.”

“I doubt Marv will realize Harry knows all he does,” Sirius said. “He always underestimates people. I mean, look at you, Reg. You figured out his horcrux thing and even managed to find one.”

“That’s because he didn’t think…he disregarded Kreacher.”

Draco sat up straighter. “He will disregard Harry. He’s always done it. He did it when he was a baby, he did it when we were eleven, his sixteen-year-old self did it, and last summer he did it again when he dueled Harry.”

Sirius lost what little color in his face, but Regulus looked alive. 

“That’s right,” Regulus breathed. “He’s always going to underestimate those who he judges as less than himself—which is almost everyone save Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore is scary when he wants,” Sirius muttered. 

“He will never think to look into Harry’s mind because Harry is a useless teenager,” Regulus went on, as if he hadn’t heard Sirius. “What could a worthless wizard such as Harry Potter even think about on a daily basis?”

“It’d never occur to him that the Order’s business is known by Harry,” Draco added. “I’ve also been trying to teach Harry how to block his mind, but so far it only works when he’s awake.”

“And it’s a one way street?” Regulus inquired. 

“I think so. They share dreams about the hallway in the Department of Mysteries. Harry cannot stop those for some reason.”

“You never thought to tell me this?!” Sirius screeched.

Draco shrunk back into his chair. 

“Sirius, not now. I take it you learned Occulmency the last time?”

“Yes. Bellatrix herself taught me,” Draco said, shuddering.

Both Sirius and Regulus gave him looks of understanding. 

“I’m not using those methods on Harry. So far we’ve only been working on clearing his mind and calming. He’s actually better at it than Potter, but I think that’s because Harry’s picked up on how not to wear his emotions on his sleeve.”

“That is a key to it,” Regulus muttered. 

“And why I sucked at it,” Sirius pipped in. “My emotions are too close to the surface. I bet Potter was more like that than Harry, right?”

Draco nodded. “He’s picked up on how I conceal my emotions and behave over the years, so when Snape is tasked with teaching him Occulmency after break, Harry ought to do better.”

“Snape taught him last time?” Sirius asked, making a horrible face.

Regulus glared at him. “Severus is the best Occulmens besides Dumbledore and Voldemort. Who else would be best to teach Harry?”

“Dumbledore.”

“He’s not the time.”

“Snape doesn’t hate Harry like he hated Potter. While I doubt they’ll be sharing afternoon tea anytime soon, Snape ignores Harry as he ignores most people. He doesn’t really bully him as he did Potter.”

“Wonder why?” Sirius mused.

“Harry showed up at the first lesson and knew all the answers to his questions. Pretty sure he shocked the socks of Snape,” Draco remembered. “Since then, he ignores Harry, which suits Harry fine.”

“And with how he’s holding his temper with Umbridge, I think he’ll do fine with Snape,” Regulus put in.

“Huh?” Sirius asked.

Regulus looked less than amused. “Did you even read the scroll Hermione and Draco lent you?”

“I glanced at it,” Sirius admitted, sinking back into his pillows looking sheepish under his brother’s look of distain. “I’m hurt.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Potter picked fights with Umbridge left and right. While Harry has been banned from Quidditch like Potter, he’s yet to serve any detention with the blood quill.”

Draco shuddered.

“Those are illegal!”

“Unless you have a special writ from the Minister himself,” Regulus put in darkly. 

“She has one?”

“Yes.”

Draco shuddered again. 

“If they do manage to get the prophecy, you are going to have to work extra hard over break with Harry on closing his mind,” Regulus said. “Due to the fact he’s a horcrux—”

“REGULUS!”

“What? They know,” Regulus said to Sirius before turning back to Draco. “As I was saying, due to the fact Harry is a horcrux, the link between the two might be one way. Meaning, Voldemort can only let his thoughts be known to Harry and not the other way around.”

“What about the sharing blood thing?” Sirius inquired. 

“What?” 

“Marv used Harry’s blood in his rebirth spell,” Draco reminded Regulus. “It’s clearly not anything like what the mad man did to Atlanta, but could there be a connection that way?”

Regulus looked as if he was in over his head. 

“You’d have to ask Lupin,” he finally said. “I have a feeling he’s an expert on blood magics.”

“I’ll ask him. He promised to come back after making sure Atlanta arrived in Glasgow,” Sirius said. 

“Well, we best be going now,” Regulus said, checking his wristwatch. “You need to rest so you can be home by Christmas. We’re not having the huge party we had last year, but there will be one nonetheless you ought to be around for.”

“Cissa didn’t invite a bunch of her friends, did she?”

“No. In fact she invited mostly yours,” Regulus said, getting to his feet and slinking into the leather jacket he’d worn. 

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. “Is that mine?”

“I believe it is,” Regulus said, looking smug. “Doubt it fits you any more since it was yours before you left home. Good afternoon.”

Draco put on his own coat (some wool thing Hermione had told him was a classic and thus would always be in style) and followed Regulus out. They headed for the lobby, which was just as loud and crowded as it’d been earlier. 

“We going to take the underground back?” Draco asked.

Regulus regarded him for a moment before asking, “If that is what you wish. Moody and Tonks have abandoned us and Harry’s not with us, so we can go whatever way you wish.”

Draco swallowed thickly and said something he never thought he’d say, “I’d like to ride the underground.”

Regulus smiled stunningly. “Done.” 


	16. And It's Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked what kind of bands, songs, albums Draco listens to. To be honest, I've no idea. I kind of picture him liking Muse, but Draco's unlikely to have heard of the band, due to the fact their first EP came out in 1998, and it's only 1995. I do know Harry is an Oasis fan. (Mostly because I was, due to the fact I liked The Beatles.)

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Regulus and Draco arrived back in the early evening, having popped into a few Muggle shops for some holiday shopping before taking the underground home. After putting his purchases away, Draco found Harry and Tom in Harry’s room with the music blaring from the Muggle stereo the pair had altered to work in the house. Harry was on his back on the bed blankly staring at the ceiling while Tom was hovering above the desk chair tossing his block from hand to hand. 

Draco knocked on the door before entering. Tom looked at him, but Harry continued to brood.

“He’s been in this state since we arrived back from the Ministry,” Tom reported.

Draco shut the door and took a seat on the trunk at the end of the bed. 

“Did you hear it?” Draco asked, pitching his voice so he could be heard over the music.

“Yes, but I believe it is Harry’s to share and not mine,” Tom answered, looking a bit remorseful for some reason. 

Draco nodded his understanding, turning his attention to the silent Harry Potter, who somehow was taking up all of the double bed. 

“I don’t have to kill him,” Harry proclaimed, sounding a bit hysterical. 

“Kill whom?”

“Voldemort, the original Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Harry went on, raising an arm up and waving it around as if he was holding a wand.

Draco glanced at Tom, whose lips were pressed tightly together. 

“I smashed it,” Harry admitted. “So there’s no more prophecy for Voldemort to steal.”

“But does he know that?”

“No. Unless I tell him. Or Aunt Narcissa. She made sure there were no Ministry workers near us when we went to get it. We could have gone to a room to listen, but she said we’d listen there so we’d not have to bother anyone. She cast a few spells and I threw it on the ground, but I still heard it.”

“You threw it on the ground before you bothered to listen to it?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to know,” Harry explained. “Not that it matters. Dumbledore stopped by while you were out. We chatted.”

“And?”

“I don’t have to kill him.”

“Okay.”

“But, at the same time, I do, he left me no choice. He made the choice for me before I was even speaking in complete sentences.”

Draco sat quietly, glancing at Tom who was tossing his block back and forth between his long fingered hands again a look of determination on his face that Draco didn’t care for. 

“The prophecy was made to Dumbledore,” Harry said as if he was proclaiming the sun rose in the East and set in the West. 

Draco blinked a few times. 

“He was going to tell me after we threw smelly water at Quirrellmort. I even asked the right question, but he thought I was too young to be burdened with this information, especially after the horrible childhood he’d condemned me to when he left me with the Dursleys— he left me there for a reason. To keep me alive through the blood wards that require me to hang out there for two weeks every summer. I knew this and I can forgive him for it, as he did it to keep me away from the leftover psychos-at-large. Now it protects me from Marv-At-Large, as Dumbledore knew that Marv wouldn’t rest till he killed me even when everyone thought he was doornail dead.”

Draco mouthed “doornail dead” and looked at Tom.

“He explained it with many more words and in greater detail,” Tom drawled. “And left out the creative wording.”

“Eh,” Harry said, flapping his hand in Tom’s direction. “At least I know who sent the Howler to my aunt last summer that scared the living daylights out of her.”

“Dumbledore?” Draco guessed.

“Yup. Anyway, so back to the summer when we faced Quirrellmort and I asked the right question and gave Dumbledore the perfect opening to tell me about the prophecy.”

“What’d you ask him?”

“I asked him why Voldemort had tried to kill me as a baby,” Harry replied. “He told me he’d tell me when I got older. Basically, this was the reason he kept not telling me for the next five years: he wanted me to be unburdened by the knowledge and have a carefree childhood.”

Both Draco and Tom snorted derisively. 

“He cares. He cared for my happiness more than my knowing the truth of what I must face, more for my peace of mind than his plan, more for my life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed.”

“He acted just like fools who love act,” Tom stated. 

Harry threw a pillow at Tom, which right through him and knocked over things on the desk behind the not ghost. 

“We all do it,” Tom muttered, looking put out. “Except Voldemort.”

“So, why did Voldemort try to kill you as a child?” Draco inquired. 

“The prophecy. It was made shortly before my birth. He knew about it, though he didn’t know its full contents past that someone would be born as July died to parents who had defied him thrice.”

“There were two babies born on that day,” Tom quietly said, tossing his block slower. “Both to parents who’d defied him three times.”

“Who was the other boy?”

“Neville,” Harry whispered.

Draco felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. 

“Voldemort decided I was more of a threat to him than Neville,” Harry went on.

“Why?” Draco whispered. 

“Who knows?” Harry shrugged while still lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. 

Draco turned to Tom.

“I cannot tell you. At the age of one, there was no way of knowing the personalities of the boys. Harry was likely picked based on his parents.”

“Neville’s parents were both Aurors. Rather well known, well accomplished Aurors,” Draco remembered, swallowing heavily. “That’s really why…Bellatrix and her gang went after the Longbottoms. Because Neville was…could have been…”

Tom nodded. “Yes. They believed the Longbottoms could tell them where the Marv had gone because their son was the other boy the prophecy spoke of.”

“How’d they know? Marv isn’t known for sharing.”

“Ah, but he is known for bragging,” Harry derisively snorted. “I know you’ve likely not had the pleasure, but Marv enjoys showboating and gloating. He’s like every Disney villain I’ve ever seen.”

Draco mouthed the word “Disney” at Tom, who sighed deeply and mouthed “Muggle” back. 

“So, why’d Marv pick you?” Draco asked, deciding he didn’t really need to know about Disney villains. 

“I reminded him of himself. I’m a half-blood from a powerful, ancient family. I’ve never really done my family history, but Dumbledore hinted we shared a powerful relative somewhere down the line.”

“I’m guessing a Perverell,” Tom guessed. “There were three brothers and I am related to one of them. Almost all of the currently purebloods are somehow related to the Perverells somehow.”

“How are you related to them?” Draco inquired. 

“I believe I’m related through Camdus,” Tom smoothly replied. “I’ve not done the Potter family tree, but if I had to guess, I’d believe the Potters were related through Ignotus.”

“Why?” Harry inquired, turning his head at an odd angle so he could see Tom. 

“Your Cloak.”

“Oh,” Draco breathed. “If you put stock in the ‘Tale of the Three Brothers’ that would make sense.”

“The what?”

“Scholars, or fools— depending on who you speak to— believe the ’Tale of the Three Brothers’ is actually a story about the Perverell brothers. The tale states three brothers cheated a deadly obstacle through the use of magic. Death itself was so angered, it appeared before the brothers and offered them gifts.”

“For making him mad?”

“He pretended to congratulate them and offered them gifts which he believed would hurry their deaths along. The first brother asked for a wand that would always win in combat. This one most have heard of—” 

“The Death Stick,” Draco filled in. 

“So, the older one wanted to be powerful,” Harry whispered. “Kind of like Voldemort.”

“True,” Tom easily agreed. “The middle brother wished to humiliate death, so he requested a stone that would bring the dead back to life.”

Harry shuddered. 

“This one is called the Resurrection Stone. The youngest brother did not trust Death and requested to be allowed to go without Death being able to follow. Death gave him his own Clock of Invisibility.”

The three boys sat in silence for a minute.

“So, this story, it’s told to all wizarding children? Kind of like ‘Snow White’ or ‘Cinderella?’”

“Is that some sort of disease?” Draco asked. 

“Never mind,” Tom sighed, giving Draco a tired look. “But yes, Harry, it is a fairytale. But, there are people who believe it began as fact.”

“But, there’s no such thing as Death as a person,” Harry insisted, looking back at the ceiling.

“No, no,” Tom agreed. “I believe that aspect of the story isn’t fact. As stories are passed down over time, there are things that change. Even tales such as ‘Snow White’ and ‘Cinderella’ have changed over the years— even after being written down.”

“How did Death come into the tale then?” Draco inquired. “I mean, the tale is supposed to teach morals. The eldest was greedy, the middle was arrogant, while the youngest was the most humble thus lived longer.”

“How’d the older two die?” Harry asked, looking curious. 

“In the story, the eldest was killed while he was sleeping by someone who was jealous of his wand after he won a duel. The middle brother killed himself after bringing back his dead love, who was miserable to be brought back to the land of the living.”

“So he joined her in death,” Draco quietly said. 

“And the last brother?” Harry asked. 

“Spent his whole life avoiding Death till he was quite old then met Death as a friend,” Tom finished. 

“So, if this tale is true, then before the youngest brother died, he gave the cloak to his son?”

Draco and Tom nodded. 

“And that’s the cloak currently sitting in my chest?”

“Could be,” Tom allowed. “Voldemort likely knew the linage of the Potters. When choosing the one who would defeat him, who best to go after than the one who came from the family who hid from death?”

“I don’t think he knows this story, Tom,” Draco said quietly, frowning a little. “He grew up in a Muggle orphanage. He’d not have grown up hearing these stories. Had you heard them before you began researching your family?”

“No, but that is how I heard of them.”

“Marv wouldn’t have put any thought into a fairytale,” Harry pointed out. “But, he would have gone after someone who was related to a powerful family like he was. The Longbottoms, while pureblood, don’t trace back to the same blood as him. Best take out those who have weak ties to his blood, right?”

Tom nodded. “He would wish to be the only one who had the claim to the Perverells. Also, he could have seen it as Harry would grow to be powerful due to this relation.” 

“So, he picked me because I reminded him of himself,” Harry chuckled unfeelingly make Draco’s skin crawl as he glanced over at Tom, who also looked unhappy with this information. “Turns out because of what he did, we had similar childhoods, both orphans, both friendless, both unwanted in the places we lived.”

“The only difference is you are a good person and you hardships didn’t turn you into a bitter, evil git,” Tom muttered.

Harry sat up, glaring over at Tom. “You are not an evil git.”

“I could have been. I could have well turned into Voldemort!”

“But you didn’t! Can’t you see! Your choices! Choices are what shape you into who you become and who you are! Voldemort made choices you’d never make! Hell, you’ve made choices he’d never make. And the fact you hated Voldemort before you even knew who he was proves that the path he chose is not one you’d ever pick!”

“But something made me pick it! What is to say I won’t in the future?” Tom shouted back. 

“You can love,” Draco quietly interrupted, reminding both teenagers he was in the room with them. 

Harry, who was kneeling on the bed ready to attempt to lodge another pillow into Tom’s see through head, sat down hard on the bed while Tom, who was standing and no longer tossing his block, looked at Draco wearily. Draco didn’t like it, but he could no longer doubt what Luna had told him at the Yule Ball was true: Tom loved Harry. It was not the mushy, teenage, hormonal way most teenagers loved, but he cared for Harry beyond all reason. Draco did not doubt Tom had cared about Addy Black, but it wasn’t to the degree he cared for Harry. While Tom was grieved by Addy Black’s passing, Draco was sure Tom would be utterly devastated if he lost Harry. 

“You do love,” Draco corrected, eyes darting from Tom over to Harry. “Voldemort, I believe, cannot love, cannot form connections.”

Tom pressed his lips together, but did not contradict Draco. 

“There was a choice in the past made by Voldemort that you did not have the opportunity to make due to the nature of your being,” Draco went on. “Whatever that choice was, that was what made Voldemort himself and you the Tom Riddle standing before me.” 

“See, Tom. Choices.”

“I did not choose to be this,” Tom said, motioning to himself.

“Yes, but you chose to use your time differently than Voldemort,” Draco pointed out. “You could have spent the past nineteen years or so trying to…I don’t know. Get a real body. Plot your world domination. You’ve already achieved what Voldemort wants: immortality.”

“Only with access to Addy’s magic do I remain on this plane of existence,” Tom pointed out, crossing his arms across his chest. “I doubt Voldemort would deal well with being…what I am.”

“No. He wouldn’t because he’d be dependent on someone else,” Draco realized. 

Tom nodded. “I didn’t like it at first, depending on someone else. But, it is not the worst thing in the world.”

Harry cleared his throat. “So, back to the prophecy.”

Tom and Draco both nodded. 

“So, as we all know, he heard this prophecy, decided I was a danger to him, he tried to kill me, and failed miserably.”

“The end?” Draco asked hopefully.

“No. As I said before, he didn’t hear all of the prophecy. His spy only heard the first part, that the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord was to be born as the seventh month dies to those who have defied him thrice,” Harry reported. 

“What was the part he didn’t hear?” Draco asked. 

Harry cleared his throat and recited, “‘And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other one survives.’” 

Draco shivered. 

“Trelawney made the prophecy to Dumbledore,” Harry said. “So, it seems she only makes predictions about me.”

“Lucky you,” Draco muttered. “So, she made the prophecy. Oh! That’s why Dumbledore has kept her on, isn’t it?”

“He was actually interviewing her for the job when she made the prediction. He wasn’t going to hire her because he doesn’t believe in Divinations, but after she made the prophecy and he knew Voldemort hadn’t gotten the whole thing, he figured he ought to keep her safe.”

Draco nodded. “So, Voldemort doesn’t know he marked you as an equal.”

“Or that I’d have a power he didn’t know about,” Harry said. 

“Don’t tell me. Your secret power is love,” Tom drawled, sitting back down in the chair. 

“It’s my ability to love, Thomas,” Harry said.

“My mother named me just Tom, not Thomas.”

“You do realize if wished, you could change your name to Thomas,” Draco pointed out. 

“My mother named me Tom. You wouldn’t change your name to Drake, would you?”

“No,” Draco stated, giving Tom a look.

“Tom is right,” Harry said a little too loud. “Dumbledore told me about this room in the Department of Mysteries that is always kept locked. In it is a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature. It’s also the most mysterious of all the things they study down there. And they study some crazy things.”

“They contained love in a room in the Ministry?” Tom asked, looking shocked.

Harry nodded. “I have heaps of love and Voldemort has none. Each time I’ve faced him, the power of love has saved me.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his noise. Draco snorted.

“That sounds like a really bad…”

“Romance novel? Horrible science fiction movie? One of those power ballads some American hair band wail about?” Harry offered. “I actually laughed at Dumbledore when he told me. But, I love with such force and with full abandoned that Voldemort cannot stand to be in a body that is full of a force he detests.”

“Oh,” Tom breathed. “He’ll never be able to possess you. He’ll never enter your mind as you enter his.”

“Because he’s too full of love?” Draco asked, looking at Tom. 

“Yes.”

“Why?” Draco inquired. “How come Harry can enter Voldemort’s but not the other way around?”

Tom made a frustrated noise, so Harry answered.

“Draco, love is such a powerful force it’s locked in a room and no one goes in there,” Harry quietly explained. “Can you imagine coming in contact with something so powerful and unknown? What it’d do to you if you didn’t really understand it?”

Draco thought for a moment, but nodded. “It would likely hurt.”

“Love hurts,” Tom whispered, somehow looking pale. “When I first…first felt it, it hurt. It was painful, but at the same time…worth it. It wouldn’t be worth it for Voldemort. He doesn’t know everything I do, he’s not felt friendship, camaraderie, companionship, or even actual joy. By the time I realized I knew what love felt like, I’d felt all those and realized why feeling love is worth it.”

“I can’t imagine not loving,” Harry admitted. “I love my parents even thought I don’t remember them. I love my family and friends.”

He stared at Tom, but said nothing else. 

“The prophecy ends with that neither of you can survive,” Draco said, pulling them back on topic. 

“Yeah.”

“So, in the end one of you must kill the other.”

“Yup.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Why are you being so flippant?”

“I’m not. It’s my choice. I could ignore the prophecy and spend my life hiding from Voldemort. However, Voldemort puts stock in the prophecy and will not stop till I’m dead.”

“So, to stay alive and out of hiding, you’ll have to kill him.”

“I kind of want to,” Harry admitted, scratching his head. “I don’t get murderous tendencies often, but I kind of do want bash his head in. He’s murdered my parents, killed Cedric for no reason, and who knows how many others. The world would be better off without him.” 

Silence fell in the overly red room. Draco sunk down to the floor and stared into space, feeling as if the outside world was a million miles away. When he’d started this journey, he never imagined the actual contents of the prophecy would call for Harry to kill Voldemort. He also never imagined Harry being so calm when faced with the fact he had to kill another person—even if that person looked like a deformed snake-man. 

“I’ve always known I’d have to do it,” Harry quietly said, appearing next to Draco. “And, after what you told me about you being from the future and what happened there, I knew the sooner I do it the better.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Draco asked.

“Besides not knowing where he is? The horcrux in my head,” Harry said, tapping his scar.

“You didn’t know what that was till a few months ago,” Draco pointed out.

“But, that’s what stopping me,” Harry said. “We need to find the other ones before we can finish him. You have any idea where they are? Besides the one we think is in your aunt’s vault.”

“No.”

“And there is our problem,” Tom said. “We have four horcruxes to destroy before we can take down Voldemort.” 

“Brilliant,” Draco muttered, having forgotten about that aspect of the battle. 

* * *

The next morning, Draco was watching the dust fly through the air in the library while pondering what objects Voldemort would use for horcruxes. 

Powerful objects. 

He’d used a locket, a Founder’s object thought to be lost to time, and an old diary that he’d charmed to let the world know he was Slytherin’s heir. Also, there was some sort of thing in the Lastrange’s vault— whatever the object, it had to be a horcrux because of the massive hissy fit Voldemort threw when he found out Potter and friends had broken into the vault. 

As the daylight faded and the dust vanished from his eyesight, Draco realized he could simply ask Regulus what was in the vault. The elders of the household likely had already figured out what the objects would likely be. He sat up as the front bell rang. Draco stood, dusted himself off and headed for the foyer. 

“Thank you, Dobby. I’m so sorry to come unannounced,” Hermione was saying, brushing snow off her shoulders before she handed her coat to Dobby. “I will only—Draco!”

Draco hurried down the stairs. “I thought you were skiing.”

“It’s not really my thing,” Hermione admitted. “I convinced my parents I wanted to spend the holidays with a wizarding family to see how it was, since I’ve not spent the holidays with a wizarding family, only at Hogwarts last year. And that wasn’t anything normal.”

Draco shook his head, staring at her. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair was bushier than ever between the snow and the static from her hat. She was also wearing a rather tight sweater that showed the world she was in fact a girl.

Draco quickly looked away before he blushed. 

“I’m sure Mother won’t mind you being here,” Draco quickly assured. “Dobby, please find Mother for me.”

“Yes, Little Master.”

Dobby cracked off, leaving Draco alone with Hermione. 

“The house is festive,” Hermione commented. “How are things? You left in the dead of the night. And your letter simply stated Sirius was not dead.”

“Sirius is fine. They still haven’t managed to stop the bleeding without the bandages, but he’s in good spirits and is convinced he’ll be home for Christmas. There’s not a big society party this year, mostly because my mother doesn’t want the house filled with maybe Death Eaters.” 

Even his mother didn’t know all of them. 

“So, just the Order, then?”

“Likely. I’m pretty sure after today, Mother has joined the Order.”

Hermione appeared curious, but Draco didn’t get to fill her in because Narcissa appeared and began to fawn over Hermione, assuring her there was more than enough room for her and she was welcomed for the holidays. Hermione apologized a few times for not sending word before hand, but Narcissa hushed her and led her away to get settled into a guest room. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, appearing on the landing. 

“Hermione’s turned up and is staying for the holidays,” Draco filled in. 

“Oh. Brilliant,” Harry said, rubbing his hands together. “I just had a thought, we ought to speak to Regulus about the…magical soul objects.”

“Yes, I thought of that.”

“Figures. Tom suggested it,” Harry grumbled, then his face fell. “We’re going to have to tell Hermione about the prophecy.”

“Yup. At least we know what we’ll be doing tonight.”

* * *

Hermione stared at Harry as if she could set him on fire with her brown eyes. Harry shifted uncomfortably. 

“I have no idea what to say,” Hermione whispered. “I’m not exactly surprised. There had to be something that set Voldemort on the path to try to kill you as a baby. It does make sense.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, looking slightly amused. “I’m glad the fact a psychopath is out to kill me makes sense.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione chided. “You know what I meant. For someone like Voldemort, he would have to have a solid reason. He didn’t wake up one morning and think, ‘I should kill Harry Potter.’”

“Actually, he kind of did,” Harry tried to joke.

“No. He didn’t. He had the prophecy to go by and he chose Halloween. It’s a very magical time of the year,” Hermione said and began listing off various things about Halloween that made it a special holiday in the wizarding world. “I know many of these things have gone to the wayside, but to Voldemort, 31 October would be a powerful date, just like the number seven.”

“I am so glad he is logical,” Draco dryly muttered.

“You should be. It makes him predictable,” Hermione pointed out.

“Indeed,” Tom agreed, tossing his block in the air above his head as he stretched out on Harry’s bed. 

Hermione rested her chin in her palm, a look of deep contemplation on her face. 

“What are we going to do come summer? We have absolutely no reason to go to the Ministry,” Hermione said, sitting up. “Voldemort will no doubt still try to lure you out of school, as he won’t know you’ve already heard the prophecy and smashed it.”

“We hope,” Draco muttered.

“Your mother cast the spells and Dumbledore is positive the person who showed us to the chamber is not in league with Voldemort— nor any of the current employees in that department,” Harry offered. 

“It is wise to think that he might find out you know the prophecy and destroyed it,” Tom pointed out. “He does have a tendency to figure things out.”

“I know. He’s not a total idiot.”

“Just a partial one.”

Hermione snorted. 

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m for bed,” Draco said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, I should go to bed too. It’s been a long day for me as well,” Hermione said, getting to her feet. “Good night, Harry, Tom.”

The two mumbled their good nights as Hermione and Draco left the room. Narcissa had put Hermione in the guest room across the hallway from Draco. They walked down the stairs together. Draco paused outside of his door and turned to Hermione.

“Good night,” he said formally.

Hermione gave him a strange look, but said, “Good night, Draco.”

When Draco failed to move, she went into her own room, giving him one last strange look before shutting the door. Draco went into his own room and bashed his head a few times with some sort of silver tray on his dresser.

“Good. You should beat some sense into that thick head of yours,” snarked the painting of the least popular headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen. 

 


	17. Into The Light

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

The next morning, after breakfast, Hermione gathered them all in Harry’s room with an expression on her face that promised she’d spent most of the night plotting something that would set the course of the rest of the year.

“I’ve been thinking,” Hermione opened, “Voldemort always waits till the summer to make his big move. And this year, it brings him out into the open and makes the rest of the wizarding world believe he’s back. Fudge will continue to be in denial until he sees the manic with his own two beady eyes.”

“Okay,” Harry slowly said. “What do you want to do to bring Voldemort out into the open?”

“Just what Potter did,” Hermione replied, making it sound simple. “We all know Time is fickle. I’m honestly amazed you and Ms Malfoy were able to get into the Ministry without Voldemort knowing.”

“Time is on our side?” Harry suggested, looking sheepish.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “What are you not telling us?”

Harry shifted, glancing at where Tom was floating in the window sill, somehow tossing a pencil up and down. 

“Aunt Narcissa asked me not to tell you,” Harry muttered. 

Suddenly, a door slammed opened in the room. Draco whirled around towards the door only to find it shut. Hermione let out a small squeak as she hit the desk, upsetting everything on it and causing something that made Harry scream like a girl fall to the ground.

“My DiskMan!” Harry screeched, diving for the object. 

Someone chuckled, shutting the door. 

Draco turned back around to find Regulus Black, leaning against a blank piece of wall looking smug. 

“Never think you’re safe from eavesdroppers in this house,” he casually said, glancing at Tom, who was still cooly draped in the windowsill. 

“I wasn’t going to tell them!” Harry exclaimed, cradling his DiskMan in his hands. 

Regulus glanced at Draco before looking back at Harry. 

“There’s nothing to really hide, Harry,” Regulus said, then turned to Draco and Hermione. “Narcissa went to the Ministry to visit a friend.” 

“Who happened to work in the Department of Mysteries?” Hermione guessed.

Regulus made a face. “She’s not stupid. Of course not. She visited with Amelia Bones, who she has been seen with in the past multiple times. Madam Bones happened to need to drop something off in the Department of Mysteries and Narcissa went along.”

“I was invisible. Tonks snuck me into the Department of Mysteries and left me by the door to wait,” Harry offered, looking a little abashed. “Madam Bones didn’t know I was there. She assumed Narcissa had something to do for the Order, which Madam Bones secretly supports.”

“And why couldn’t you tell us this?” Draco asked. 

Harry looked at Regulus and helplessly shrugged. 

“Miss Granger, what is your plan for the summer?” Regulus asked, turning his attention to Hermione.

Who promptly went pink cheeked. 

“Uh, you can call me Hermione. Uh, well, as long as Voldemort doesn’t find out that Harry smashed and knows the prophecy, he’s going to act just as he did last round,” Hermione said, looking as if she was fighting to not blush any further. “So, we’re going to go to the Ministry.”

“What?” Harry asked flatly. “No. Sirius dies—” 

“He won’t,” Regulus insisted, pushing himself off the wall. “After the vision, Potter wasted time assuring Sirius had been taken. Then, there was the time wasted between Snape satisfying Sirius was not and alerting the Order.”

“Yeah, there was a lot of time wasted,” Harry agreed. “I mean, it takes like six hours to get from Hogwarts to London.”

“Except if you fly on threstrals,” Hermione offered. “If you don’t have to use railways or roads and you go as the crow flies, it takes like maybe an hour to two, depending on how fast they can fly.” 

“So, we wait till the Ministry closing, then leave. At the same time, we alert the Order we’re going,” Harry suggested.

“Well, yeah, but we have to make a big deal you think Sirius has been taken,” Hermione reminded him, wringing her hands together, her earlier embarrassment forgotten. “You’re going to have to break into Umbridge’s office to use the fire.”

Harry dropped the DiskMan. “Seriously?”

“We need to be rid of her!” Hermione shirked while Regulus and Tom snorted. “She is a horrid toad of a cow!”

“Toad of a cow?” Draco faintly asked trying hard not to laugh.

“The position is cursed, Hermione,” Regulus assured. “She’ll be gone even if Harry does not break into her office.”

Hermione pressed her lips together.

“Regulus, she just wishes to make Umbridge to into the Forest and get run over by centures,” Draco drawled. 

Regulus chuckled. “Is that how she met her end at Hogwarts?”

The trio nodded. 

“Dumbledore went into the Forest upon his return to the school and brought her out. She was in the Hospital Wing for weeks and never said a word. She eventually recovered. She kept her position within the Ministry and when Voldemort took over, she was in charge of…persecuting Muggleborns.”

Draco felt his stomach tightened at the thought of what Umbridge did on a daily basis once Voldemort took over to people like Hermione. 

“I am not breaking into Umbridge’s office. I’ve seen what happens when I do that and I am not doing it.” 

Harry folded his arms across his chest tightly and glared at Hermione. 

“You’ve seen it?” Hermione asked.

“Draco will show you later,” Regulus assured, flapping his hand. He folded his arms and draped himself against the wall once more. “I think your plan to carry on as if Harry doesn’t know the vision is fake. Going to the Ministry is the only way to bring Voldemort into the light. It works for him to be in the background for now. He could remain there for years, but Harry at the Ministry…granted, you’ll have to make the fight last long enough for him to get furious and go find what is taking so long.”

Harry groaned. 

“It shouldn’t take too long, I assure you. He lacks patience no matter what he claims,” Regulus offered and Tom snorted loudly. “I can get certain Order members hidden throughout the Department of Mysteries before the Death Eaters arrive.”

“Like whom?”

“Tonks, myself, Sirius, Lupin, the eldest Weasley boy,” Regulus said, looking pensive. “If one of those fails to work out, I’m sure I’ll be able to scrounge some people up for the mission.”

“Uh, how will you sell this to them? I mean, Potter went off half cocked—” Hermione started.

“I can plan this,” Regulus assured her, “without everyone knowing your part. Tonks is an Auror. She doesn’t need months of planning to execute something like this. And the eldest Weasley is a code breaker for Gringotts. He’s used to improvisation. Sirius and Lupin already know about the time travel, so they can know the truth.”

Hermione appeared unsure, but nodded. 

“Just call Sirius on the two way mirror before you leave Hogwarts. I’ll let you know the details then.”

Harry nodded. “I’m so glad we’ve got our summer planned in advance. Now all I have to worry about is passing my OWLs.”

“Oh, that’ll be easy,” Hermione said with a flap of her hand.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. Draco woke to find a stack of presents at the foot of his bed. He gathered them up and trekked up the stairs to Harry’s room. Harry was halfway through his pile.

“Hermione got me a homework planner,” Harry frowned. “Did she get you one as well?”

Draco set his pile down on the floor and searched for one with Hermione’s handwriting. Upon finding it, it did resembled a diary, so Draco assumed she’d gotten him the same thing. His heart kind of twisted, but he opened it and snorted as it told him to, _“Do it today or later you’ll pay!”_

“Amusing,” Draco chuckled. 

The rest of Draco’s presents were as expected— except the jumper and fudge from Mrs Weasley. He was surprised to find the hand knitted jumper in deep blue. There was also a nice note wishing him happy holidays and good luck being a prefect with George and Fred to look after. 

“You know, I think she likes you better than me and she’s never even met you,” Harry muttered, looking at the jumper. 

“Have you met her?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think I have. It’s nice of her to make us these,” Harry said quietly. “They are rather nice. Even if I hate green.”

“But it brings out your eyes,” Draco drawled, smirking.

Harry chucked the jumper at Draco’s head. 

The rest of the day went as planned. There were several people over for dinner, mostly close family and a few Order members who had no where to go. Sirius, who had returned that morning from St Mungo’s, kept making cow eyes at Lupin, who spent most of the day in conversation with Tonks while looking as if he couldn’t figure out why she talking to him. Knowing that Tonks of the past timeline had married the tried looking werewolf, Draco wasn’t all that surprised. 

At the end of the night, Dobby appeared and whispered something to Narcissa, who nodded then grabbed Sirius and Harry. The trio vanished towards the kitchen. They appeared about an hour later, Sirius looking a little disgruntled and Harry weary. 

“What was that about?”

“Snape is to give me lessons,” Harry replied. “I’m to tell people they are Remedial Potions lessons because I’m so hopeless.”

Draco nodded. “Yes, I stumbled into one of these lessons and thought it was hilarious Potter had to have extra lessons. Remedial lessons at that.” 

Harry glared at him. 

“You’ve got the foundations of Occulmency, so the lessons shouldn’t be that terrible. You already will show promise so Snape shouldn’t get too mad or frustrated.”

“He still hates me,” Harry muttered. “I don’t know why. I don’t do anything, I’m not rude to him, and I’m not totally hopeless at Potions. I work hard.”

“I don’t know, but he treats you better than he treated Potter,” Draco assured. “I’ll help you out, okay?”

Harry nodded, but looked glum the rest of the night. 

* * *

The trio took the Knight Bus back to school, accompanied by Narcissa, Sirius, and Tonks. After riding the underground, Draco fully comprehended why Harry hated almost all wizarding forms of transportation. It was all uncomfortable, yet fast, but now Draco wasn’t sure if the quickness was worth the discomfort. The pimply man who took their money seemed to know Harry and spent the entire ride to school (several loud bangs and up and downs) chatting as if they were really good friends. 

Draco was happy to be on solid ground even though he tripped off the bus and into a snow drift. Hermione helped Harry pull Draco out as his mother and her cousin tried hard not to laugh at him. 

“You should be safe once you’re in the grounds,” Tonk said, eyeing the deserted road. “Have a good term, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Draco muttered as he dusted himself off while Harry and Hermione assured Tonks (who was an old woman today who looked alarmingly like one of the paintings Draco had seen at the house) they would indeed have a good term.

“Don’t do anything too drastic,” Narcissa warned, eyeing the trio. 

“We don’t go looking for trouble,” Harry complained.

“It just finds you,” the three adults chimed.

“And, Harry, do try hard at those Occulemcy lessons. I know Snape’s a git—” 

“Sirius!”

“—but he knows what he’s doing. In that area. If you want lessons in hair washing—”

“SIRIUS BLACK!”

“—best go elsewhere.”

Narcissa hauled Sirius into the bus, Tonks gave them one last wave, then the trio hauled their trunks up the slippery drive towards the school. Draco glanced over his shoulder as they neared the gates and found the Knight Bus was gone. 

Good riddance.

* * *

The next day, since it was the first day back, Ronald Weasley insisted on a meeting of the Chess Club. 

“We can’t play Muggle Chess,” Draco said when Weasley hunted him down between classes. “Harry’s got Remedial Potions.”

“ _Remedial Potions_?” Weasley asked, his red eyebrows vanishing into his hairline. “He is not that terrible. Snape ever gives extra lessons. Longbottom could use Remedial Potions, but Harry?”

Draco noted the use of the first name, but said nothing and simply shrugged. 

“Well, I’ll spread the word that we’re having Chess Club twice this week for those interested,” Weasley said and scampered off with a little spring in his step. Draco shook his head, then headed towards class. He was about to greet Harry, who was loitering around the Entrance Hall, when Harry was accosted by Cho Chang. Draco stopped walking and watched as Chang nervously spoke to Harry. Her cheeks were pink and she wrung her hands together, while Harry looked utterly bewildered. He ran a hand through his hair, said something to which Chang looked mortified and ran off. Draco snickered, strolling up casually to the utterly baffled Harry Potter. 

“Did she try to ask you out for Valentine’s Day?” Draco guessed. 

Valentine’s Day was the next Hogsmeade date and a sappy day where couples did sappy things. Logically, a girl would want a date for that outing. 

“Is that what she was trying to do?” Harry asked, looking embarrassed. “Why would she do that?”

Draco smacked Harry in the back of the head. “You clot. She kissed you before break, did she not?”

Harry rubbed the back of his head and tried to put his hair back in order. “Yeah, but…should I go after her?”

“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with her on Valentine’s Day?”

“Well, not if she’s going to kiss me again,” Harry grumbled.

“Then, just leave it,” Draco said, grabbing Harry by the arm and toeing him off to class. “I told Weasley you have Remedial Potions when he inquired about Chess Club.”

“He’s still having a meeting?”

“Of course. You will be missed.”

Harry glared at Draco, but allowed himself to be towed off to class. 

* * *

Draco went to Chess Club, mostly to distract himself from what Harry was doing down in the dungeons with Snape. Learning Occlumency was not pleasant, especially if the person teaching you disliked you (or was vindictive). Draco was sure there was a way to teach it that was gentler than how Bellatrix had taught him, but he doubted Snape would use that method. 

Sure enough, Harry looked as if he’d been bashed over the head one too many times when he appeared in the library where Draco and Hermione had retired after Chess Club. Harry slumped into the seat next to Draco and shivered. 

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked. 

“I’ve no clue,” Harry moaned, putting his head on the table. “My scar hurts, I’m shivery, yet I’m hot.”

“Sounds like you have the flu,” Hermione allowed. “Other than your scar hurting. Why does—”

“Snape drew out that memory of the corridor,” Harry said into the table. “That’s when it started to hurt. He’s not doing anything. Or feeling anything.”

“I love that you’re an emotional Marv detector,” Draco snarked. 

“Oh, hush,” Hermione scolded. “Can we do anything?”

Draco shook his head as Harry groaned. “He’s better off than I was when I first was being taught.”

Hermione scowled. “There is no—”

“No.”

Harry groaned again, but fell silent as Madam Pince swept past them, glowering at some near by fifth years who were bickering over something on their homework assignments. Silence fell as Pince stalked off. 

“Oh,” Hermione said quietly, pulling out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. “I forgot to mention this morning, but Sturgis Podmore tried to break into the Department of Mysteries last night.”

“What?”

“He’s an Unspeakable. He was likely cursed by the Death Eaters. When the Ministry officials found him he was babbling nonsense. It was reported he was overworked. They don’t mention what door he was trying to get through, but likely the one to the…” Hermione trailed off, shoving the paper across the table to the boys. Harry didn’t bother to pick his head up off the table. Draco, though, read the short article buried deep within the paper. “Do you remember what happened to him?”

“No. Sorry,” Draco apologized. “I didn’t pay much attention to what was going on till the breakout.”

“When’s that slated to happen?”

“Hopefully it won’t,” Draco whispered. “Let’s go back to the Common Room. Or do you want to go to the kitchens and let the Elves smother you?”

Harry sat up and gave Draco a dark look, but didn’t say no, so the trio went to the kitchens. The House Elves were thrilled as usual to see them and supplied them with Butterbeers and chocolate— all things they seemed to think would cure Harry’s ales. It seemed to work as within ten minutes Harry looked normal. 

“You told Sirius about the breakout?” Hermione inquired.

“Of course,” Draco drawled. “I’m not sure how he’s going to go about preventing it…he might not be able to. While he is Sirius Black, at the same time—” 

“He’s Sirius Black and the most likely to have a vendetta against the Ministry and Azkaban,” Hermione finished with a great big sigh. “I best get going. I’ve still have to get through the pointless busy work Umbridge assigned. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry waved, guzzling another bottle of Butterbeer. Draco bid her goodnight and tried hard not to stare as she exited the kitchen. 

“How long?”

Draco almost screamed at the sound of Tom’s voice. Tom smirked, of course, and eased himself into the seat next to Harry. Draco glared at the smirking not ghost.

“How long?” Tom asked once more.

“I’ve no idea what you speak of,” Draco said, sticking his nose into the air. 

Tom rolled his eyes. 

“How long for you?” Draco challenged. 

Tom narrowed his blue-blue-blue eyes and studied Draco a long time before he said, “I’m not sure. I did not realize it till it was too late to turn back.”

Draco stared at Tom, slack jawed. 

“What are you two talking about?” Harry asked, setting down his bottle. He let out a loud belch, which caused Tom and Draco to wrinkle their noses. “Pardon me.”

Draco shook his head. “Let’s go. If we hurry, we might see whatever George and Fred are trying to sell tonight. I heard rumors it would be something new.” 

Throughly distracted by seeing something new dreamed up by Fred and George, Harry dropped wanting to know what Tom and Draco were talking about. Tom poured himself back into Harry’s pocket, but not before giving Draco a look that promised he was not going to drop the subject of figuring out what Draco had been trying to deny for years: he liked Hermione Granger in more than a friendly way. And had for quite awhile. 

 


	18. No New Would Have Been Good News

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

After a night of watching Fred and George demonstrate Headless Hats, Harry was in a brilliant mood. He forgot about his horrid lesson with Snape (there were somethings he did not want to share with Snape let alone anyone else). However, his morning went downhill when Hermione slammed the morning paper down in front of him, smoothing it out, heedless of items in her way. Draco was utterly horrified when he got a lapful of scrambled eggs. 

“Hermione!” Harry scolded, dodging a bowl of porridge. 

She thrust her finger at the smoothed out paper, her face dark and stormy. 

“Oh no,” Draco moaned, covering his face and not bothering to rid himself of the lapful of eggs. “The one morning I don’t bother reading…”

Harry looked at the paper and stopped breathing at the sight of the horrible, jeering photographs all over the front page. 

Sirius had failed at preventing the mass Death Muncher breakout. 

 _Antonin Dolohov_ , read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face that made Harry’s insides shudder, _convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett_. 

 _Augustus Rookwood_ , the caption under a pockmarked man with hair that surpassed Snape’s in greasiness _, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_. 

Rookwood. Harry knew that name. It took him a moment before he remembered Regulus mentioned him being only Death Muncher who worked in the Department of Mysteries. 

Harry’s eyes drifted to the next photo, the only female of the group. Her face leapt out at him, as she looked eerily familiar. She had long, dark hair that was unkept and all over the place. She glared up at him through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. She had retained vestiges of great beauty like Sirius, but Azkaban had taken most of her good looks. 

Or something. 

Due to who she was, for all Harry knew she lost her good looks just as Voldemort had lost the beauty of Tom Riddle. 

“I cannot believe your mother is related to her,” Hermione whispered to Draco, who was still hidden behind his hands, his pale yellow hair doing a great impression of Bellatrix Lastrange’s dark hair. 

“Nor I can I,” Draco admitted, running his hands up and down his face. “Who do they attribute the breakout to?”

“Dumbledore,” Hermione whispered. 

Draco’s head shot up. 

“Due to all the trouble he’s been stirring up saying Voldemort is back. Even though there’s no way for the prisoners to actually know this, but the paper states it’s Dumbledore’s rabble rousing that caused the prisoner’s to break out.”

“But, how?” Draco asked. 

“In the same manner as Sirius Black did two years ago,” Hermione stated flatly. 

“But, Sirius is innocent and not a Death Eater!”

“No, but he escaped.”

Harry’s insides twisted as he read the article. “Pettigrew was found murdered in his cell.”

Draco snatched the paper, eyes going over the article at a speed Harry was sure none of the words were actually being absorbed into Draco’s brain. 

“It’s not that surprising,” Draco said softly, setting the paper down. “You didn’t feel anything last night?”

Harry shifted, “I was happy. But, I thought that was because of the Headless Hats…I mean…Snape really ripped into me last night.”

“He’s right. Having your mind broken into forcefully over and over would make anyone miss the happiness they felt at the sight of a Headless Hat might be something else,” Hermione offered. 

“This article really rips into Sirius,” Draco muttered, glaring at the discarded paper. “He’ll loose any status he’s gathered since he was set free. Which, likely, is what Fudge planned. He can alienate the Blacks all he wants now that one of them is on the loose and likely up to no good.”

“Sirius did get on his wrong side when he stood up to him at Harry’s trial,” Hermione muttered, looking at the head table. She smirked. 

Draco turned, as did Harry. Professor Umbridge was scowling down at her food that she was gulping away at without really noticing what she was eating. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Harry muttered. “If the paper and the Minister is blaming Dumbledore, won’t that mean…”

“Umbridge is going to make a move to get rid of him,” Draco finished. 

Harry nodded as Hermione made an impatient noise. She tapped her fingers on the table for a moment before a light bulb went off above her head. She stood up and took off without saying a word.

“Library?”

Draco frowned, looking pensive. “Maybe. But, it was after this that the article came out…when Potter told his story.”

“Aw, man. I forgot about there. Where are we going to find a reporter? She’s not blackmailing Skeeter, so who?”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe she’s going straight to the source?”

Harry had no idea what Draco was talking about, but he’d spotted Hagrid standing in the Entrance Hall, looking heavily bruised as the day he’d arrived home. Harry scrambled out of his seat. 

“Hey, Hagrid!” Harry shouted, skidding to a stop besides Hagrid. As he got a closer look, he noticed fresh wounds across Hagrid’s nose. 

“All righ’, ‘Arry?” he asked, trying to muster a smile yet only managing to grimace in pain. 

“Are you okay, Hagrid?” Harry asked as Draco joined him, frowning at the sight of Hagrid. 

“Fine, fine,” Hagrid assured with feeble airiness. “Jus’ busy, yeh know, usual stuff— lessons ter prepare— couple o’ salamanders got scale rot— an’ I’m on probation. ‘Allo, Draco.”

“You’re on probation?” Harry whispered, though he honestly wasn’t surprised. Nor was Draco by the expression on his face. 

“Yeah. ’S’no more’n I expected, ter tell yeh the truth. Yeh migh’ not’ve picked up on it, bu’ that inspection didn’ go too well, yeh know…anyways,” Hagrid sighed deeply waving a large hand around an almost taking out Professor Vector as she past by. “Bes’ go and rub a bit more chili power on them salamanders or their tails’ll be hangin’ off ‘em next. See ya, ‘Arry, Draco.”

Hagrid turned around and trudged out the front doors. 

“He didn’t eat,” Draco observed. 

Harry sighed. 

* * *

Rumors flew around the school, more than usual. Most of them were about how the Death Eaters got out, Harry, and Dumbledore. Umbridge was on a rampage and gave Harry detention for no reason other than he sneezed during reading time. He suffered through one of her detentions and didn’t understand why Potter put up with multiple detentions throughout the school year. He hoped, at least, that when Potter arrived back in the Common Room, someone had been as thoughtful as Draco, who was waiting with some sort of potion that soothed and healed his hand.

“That was horrible. Those quills should be illegal.”

“They are,” Draco reminded him. “Shouldn’t your hand say _I will not sneeze_?”

Harry peered at his hand, where _I will not tell lies_ was slowly fading away. He shrugged and sighed deeply.

“I think she’s terrified because since the Death Eaters escaped, people have been walking up to me and telling me they believe me,” Harry admitted. “I mean, their crimes have been drudged up and are in the papers daily. It is right there for us to read and anyone who knows Dumbledore knows he wouldn’t—”

“They said the Death Eaters broke out because Dumbledore said Marv was back,” Draco reminded him. “And while the paper points the finger at him, anyone with a working brain knows that the only reason the Death Eaters could have possibly broken out is because Marv has returned to the land of the living.”

Harry sighed. “Great.”

“Umbridge is going to post another decree tomorrow,” Draco said. “The teachers have been muttering as much as the students.”

Harry groaned. 

Sure enough, the next morning Educational Degree Number Twenty-six stated that teachers were banned from giving students any information not strictly related to the subjects they were paid to teach. 

Hermione showed up that evening with a bleeding hand and furious expression.

“What happened to you?” Draco asked, looking ill at the sight of Hermione’s hand. He grabbed it, cradling it gently in his larger hands. “What did she do to you?”

“I told her she had no right to tell me off for doing homework during her class, as it was not information strictly related to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione stated. 

Draco sighed as Lee Jordan appeared, his hand also bleeding rather badly.

“I did the same thing when she told Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap during class,” Lee said. 

Draco muttered under his breath and dropped Hermione’s hand. He stormed off, leaving Harry alone with two bleeding people. 

“Uh, he’s likely gone to get whatever he used on my hand last night,” Harry offered, hoping he was right.

Sure enough, Draco appeared with a bowl of whatever and Hermione sighed in relief. Draco produced another bowl with a wave of his hand and dumped some of the potion into it and handed it to Lee. 

“Thanks, Drake,” Lee said, sighing in relief.  

“Essence of murtlap?” Hermione asked.

Draco nodded.

Hermione plunged her hand into the liquid and sighed in relief. 

“She is a horrid cow. I thought maybe the breakout would humble her a bit, but clearly it’s only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of our lives under her control!” Hermione raged. 

Lee nodded at Draco and edged away before Hermione exploded. Draco took her by the shoulders and led her over to the couch near the fireplace that was empty due to the late hour. He gently urged her to sit down while she continued to rant about Umbridge. 

“She’s going to attend every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures Class. How can she do that? She must have classes at the same time!”

“Time Turner,” Draco muttered.

If possible, Hermione looked even more furious. Draco frowned as she clenched her fists, making the essence of murtlap turn redder. 

With Umbridge monitoring, Hagrid told Harry (and Draco and Hermione) that he ought not to visit after dark, due to if Umbridge caught him (them) it’d be all their necks on the line. Harry didn’t want Hagrid to loose his job, so he promised he wouldn’t visit after dark any longer. 

“She’s slowly taking away everything that makes life at Hogswart worth living,” Harry grumbled. “She’s got my Firebolt, she’s forbidden me from playing Quidditch, and I’m no longer allowed to visit Hagrid if the sun is down.”

“You can see him when the sun is up,” Draco snarked. 

“Next thing you know, she’ll cancel Chess Club.”

“Speaking of Chess Club, shouldn’t we play some Muggle Chess before she does?”

Harry could have slapped himself for not thinking of that.  

He doubled the amount of meetings for the Muggle Chess Club and was happy to see the members were all working harder than ever, spurred on by the news of dangerous Death Eaters on the loose. No one, though, worked harder than Neville. The news that his parent’s attacker was free had wrought a strange and slightly alarming change to the boy. Draco understood this change and worked especially well with this new Neville. When Harry taught the group the shield charms Draco had taught him and Hermione first year, Neville was the first person to master them all. (Draco and Hermione did a good job at pretending to not know the charms.) 

While Harry was pleased with all their good work, he wished he was progressing as well with Occlumency. Harry’s sessions with Snape were not getting any better. Harry felt as if he was making no progress to protect his mind. He had to question Dumbledore’s thinking in having Snape train him, as well as Draco. 

“He was a Death Eater where you came from,” Harry hissed at Draco one night after an especially horrible session with Snape as he flopped down on his bed. “Who is to say he isn’t doing this to make it easier for Marv to get into my head?”

“Yes, he was a Death Eater, but this time maybe he’ll be different? He likes you better and his hair isn't as greasy.”

“And that’s important because?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what Addy might have done,” Draco pointed out. “He’s…he’s also a superb Occlumens. Who knows what side he really is on?”

“But, he is a Death Eater.”

“He’s also a member of the Order,” Draco pointed out. 

Harry let out a noise of frustration. 

“Marv can’t get into your head,” Draco said, not looking up from whatever he was reading. “You love too much.”

Harry grumbled, rubbing his scar. “Did it hurt when you learned?”

“Yes. It was horrible,” Draco admitted. “And I have a feeling Snape is a lot nicer than Bellatrix.”

“He keeps making me revisit my childhood. I’d rather not—” 

“At least the things you see are real, they are your memories. They might not be pleasant, but you know they are real,” Draco said, shutting the book with a snap. “Bellatrix liked to mix things up and make me see horrible, false things along side actual events.” 

Harry was quiet for a moment. 

“So, you going to ask Hermione to go with you to Hogsmeade?”

Draco flushed pink and stared in horror at Harry. Harry, slightly confused, stared back, blinking a few times innocently. 

“What? You two often go together.”

“Why can’t the three of us go, or did you say you’d hang out with Cho?” Draco asked, trying to recover his usual manner. 

Harry snorted. “No. I think she’s gotten the memo I’m not interested in her that way. Anymore. I was. But now I’m not.”

Draco nodded, hiding behind his hair. 

“Hermione and I have a plan for our Hogsmeade visit,” Tom said from behind Harry. Harry looked at him in question. “Best not tell you till we arrive.”

Tom gave him a mysterious smile and drifted off to hide in Harry’s bed when Neville came bounding into the room carrying some sort of strange plant Professor Spout had given him. 

* * *

On the morning of the fourteenth, Harry met Luna (as Tom had instructed him) in the Entrance Hall and headed out. Harry had noticed that a lot of people were nicely dressed and were waking in pairs of male and females acting a little weird. Draco chose to remain behind with Atlanta, who decided at the last minute she wasn’t going, while Hermione was no where to be found.

“She’s gone ahead,” Luna said, as if reading Draco’s mind. “I think she went a secret way.”

“Oh,” Harry said, realizing where he was supposed to meet Hermione. 

The trip to the village went quietly, Luna spent most of the trip chatting to Harry’s pocket, which due to the fact she was Luna no one thought a thing of it.

“This way!” Hermione called out when the pair had clambered over the fence around the Shrieking Shack. 

“Oh, this is exciting,” Luna sighed, ambling toward Hermione’s voice. 

Harry picked his way around the shack and found the loose window Hermione had pried open. Harry helped Luna through the window and followed. 

“Why are we here?”

“Let Tom out,” Hermione instructed.

Harry glanced at Luna who smiled and reminded him she knew all about Tom. Tom poured himself out of Harry’s pocket and stood before the three of them looking gleeful. 

Tragically, gleeful wasn’t a good look on Tom. 

“What is going on?”

“Daddy’s going to publish your story!” Luna exclaimed. “Written by TR DeVinette!”

Tom smugly smiled. 

“How are you going to—” 

Hermione pointed at the floor. There was an old fashion typewriter sitting on the dusty, blood smeared floor looking out of place. 

“Oh, is that yours?” Luna asked, studying it closely. “It glows.”

“Yes,” Tom proclaimed. “Lupin was kind enough to send it to Hermione when she requested it for me.”

“You’re going to sit in the Shack alone and write a tell-all interview?” Harry asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Hermione answered for Tom. “I’ll sneak out with him and we will mail the story to Luna’s father.”

“How?”

“Hedwig will come if I call her,” Tom assured Harry. 

“She’s my owl,” Harry pointed out.

“And Tom’s yours,” Luna dreamily said. “Now, I’m anxious to hear the tale. Let’s start.”

She sat down on the rug the others had left behind when Harry had first met Tom Riddle the Not Ghost two years ago. Ignoring what Luna had insinuated, Harry sat down as well. Hermione produced a ball point pen and beat up looking notebook. Tom took both and frowned when he noted the pages left. 

“I’ve only got two more of these,” he quietly said, then shook his head. “All right. Let’s begin.” 

* * *

Harry felt lighter as he and Luna headed back to the school. It was easier to talk about what happened that night knowing that this telling would lead to the world knowing and the opportunity to get the truth out there. Tom turned out to be a rather astute journalist. While Harry didn’t know much about writing a news story, he recognized Tom was asking the right questions. Having read Tom’s writing before, Harry knew the story would be good. 

“Won’t people know TR DeVinette is, well, kind of bias towards me,” Harry had worried midway through the interview. 

“The public has no idea you know TR DeVinette,” Hermione assured. “The _Slytherin Journals_ were found by an unnamed source and have never been linked back to you.”

“But, he lead the campaign to rid the _Daily Prophet_ of Rita’s stories about me.”

“On the stance they weren’t up to parr and filled with lies,” Tom said. “Even someone like TR DeVinette who doesn’t personally know you would have known you weren’t twelve. And the other things that story said were—” 

Tom ceased speaking at that point and popped out of existence, something he’d not done in quite some time. 

“Do not worry. TR went against those stories on the stance they weren’t proper journalism, nor good writing. However, we all know where the _Daily Prophet_ ended up,” Luna offered, seemingly unbothered by Tom’s vanishing act. 

“Reporting rubbish,” Hermione agreed. 

“Daddy doesn’t publish rubbish,” Luna put in, then began to talk about the big story on Crumple-Horned Snorksacks.

Harry wasn’t sure if publishing his story in _The Quibbler_ would give him any ground to stand on, but it was something. And TR DeVinette was a respected wizard. Even if he was growing rather unpopular due to the continue publication of the _Slytherin Journals_ — all which increased the information that Slytherin was a Muggleborn. But since the breakout, Harry wanted to do something, whether it worked in his favor or not. He’d been silent too long. 

“What do you think Umbridge is going to do about you going public?” Neville asked, who was rather pale when he found out about the interview from Draco. “It was the right thing to do, but…it must have been tough…talking about it…was it?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, wondering how they’d gotten on the topic during their Chess Club meeting on Monday night, which had become the norm after they’d gotten back from break. Usually, the Muggle Chess Club met on Mondays, as it was an unpopular time for Quidditch, but tonight it was strictly Chess Club, though Harry and Neville were in the back room, actually playing Muggle Chess. 

“It was brave,” Neville said quietly. 

“People need to know what Voldemort’s capable of, don’t they?” Harry quietly asked. “How are you holding up?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. It was, uh, in the paper. About your parents,” Harry quietly prodded. 

Neville scratched the back of his head, glancing around the empty, quiet room. “Yeah, but Umbridge isn’t going to be pleased. She’s been…”

“Horrible to anyone who contradicts the Ministry line?” Harry offered.

Neville nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’ve caused no trouble, but Hermione has.”

“I know. I wish she’d stop,” Harry quietly said.

Hermione as absent due to detention. Draco was waiting for her with the essence of mutlap. Murlap? Whatever it was. 

“How do you know TR DeVinette?” Neville asked, moving his knight. 

“Uh…”

Harry panicked for a moment. They’d not thought about how Harry knew TR DeVinette.

“Or did Hermione just write him because he’s so outspoken about telling the truth? Gran said he was the reason _The Prophet_ stopped running Skeeter stories last year during the Triwizard tournament.”

“Yeah. She presented the story and he took the job to tell the truth.”

“Why’d she pick him? He doesn’t usually write interviews. I mean, he occasionally writes for the paper, or used to, but he’s mostly research, right?”

“I think. I only know his name because of the _Slytherin Journals_ ,” Harry claimed, moving a pawn. 

“Gran thinks he’s grand,” Neville sighed, moving another pawn. “She’s followed his work for years. She’s desperate to meet him, but I guess he’s kind of a shut-in. Did he really come to Hogsmeade to speak with you?”

“Uh, yeah. I think he owed Luna’s dad a favor,” Harry added. “So he came.”

“What’s he like?” Neville asked. “I’ve always wondered.”

“I dunno. Uh, kind of cranky at times…he knows he’s smarter than anyone else in the room and kind of lets you know it,” Harry said, wondering how to describe Tom. “And he doesn’t get out much. You can tell.”

Neville nodded. “Check.”

Harry stared at the board. “Wait, what?” 

* * *

After Chess Club, Harry made his way back to the Common Room and found a disgruntled Draco surrounded by the remains of the Gryffindor Quidditch team as well as Fred and George. The entire team seemed to be begging him for something, which made Harry frown. 

“Please,” Angelina begged. “Do I need to be down on my knees?”

“I’ve never played Keeper in my life,” Draco said for what sounded like the millionth time. 

“Can you play Beater?” asked Jack Sloper, one of the replacement Beaters. “I mean, I can play Keeper if you play Beater.”

Draco clutched the bowl of healing magical liquid and glared at everyone surrounding him. 

“I’ll let you play Seeker,” Ginny offered.

“What?”

“No!”

“You’re actually good!”

“When did you learn to fly like that?”

Ginny glared at George, who’d said the last comment. 

“Draco?” Harry asked, causing everyone to turn around and stare at him. 

“We’ve got to get rid of McLaggen,” Angelina hissed. “But, I need someone to replace him.”

“Did you kick him off the team?”

“Not yet.”

“Where is he?”

Fred grinned. “Puking his guts out.”

“I put the other end in his pocket, but who knows if he’ll find it,” George added. 

Angelina kneaded the space between her eyes. 

“I’ll give up my spot. I’ll play Keeper,” Angelina finally said.

Draco groaned, pressing his lips together. “How do you even know if I play?”

Everyone gaped.

“Of course you play.”

“You have to play. Everyone is your family has played!”

“Someone has to practice with Harry over the summer!”

Draco groaned, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand. His eyes went to something over Harry’s shoulder and he stood up. Harry turned around to find Hermione entering, looking pissed off and pale. 

“If Sloper will play Keeper, I can be a Beater. I’ll be rubbish, but less so if you stick me in the goals. Oh, and Ginny can keep my Firebolt. I’ll write Sirius for another broom for his collection.”

Without waiting for an answer to his proclamation, Draco strode across the Common Room towards Hermione, ushering her into the back corner. Instead of heading for the table they usually sat at to get away from everyone, he sat her down in the window seat near by. Harry turned his attention to the rest of the Quidditch team, who all looked relieved.

“Really, how do you know he’s any better?” Harry inquired.

“Can he fly?”

“Yes.”

“He was one of the better fliers in your class,” Ginny offered, then added when everyone stared at her, “Ron told me.”

“But, Draco’s never played Beater,” Harry pointed out. “Well, in a game. When we practice he hits things at me and I dodge.”

“And you’re good at it,” Fred said. “They were really bad. McLaggen is great, but he’s a total a— jerk.”

“He’s not a team player,” Alisha said. “He tries to play all positions and coach at the same time.”

“And he almost always contradicts Angelina,” Katie added. 

“It’s settled. He’s off the team. I’ll tell him tomorrow,” Angelina said. “Or right now. I’ll go make sure he gets the other end of that sweet.”

She gave a dark look to the twins before she left.

“He won’t go easily,” Katie muttered.

“No, but if he makes too much of a fuss, just have Angelina set McGonagall on him. She really likes having that Quidditch Cup in her office. She’ll do what’s best for the team,” George said, smiling brightly. 

Harry excused himself from the group. He planned to head over to Draco and Hermione to make sure her hand was okay, but when he caught sight of the pair of them, he turned around and headed for the dormitory. 

“What got into you?” Tom asked once Harry had drawn the curtains and put the silencing spells on the curtains. “You look like you ate a lemon.”

“Draco and Hermione,” Harry said. “I don’t like it. I…I…I…”

Harry struggled with what he was feeling. While he logically knew there was nothing really all that wrong with Draco and Hermione liking one another in more than a friendly manner, another part of him did not want the dynamic of their trio changing. 

“He’s too old for her!” Harry shouted, grabbing onto the reasoning Draco had given Harry for not fancying anyone. “He already said he was too old because he was…twenty-two.”

Tom sighed. “I’m roughly thirty-three.”

“You’re different,” Harry insisted. “We’re friends.”

Tom stared at him, a blank expression on his face that made Harry’s insides squirm in a bad way. He felt like he’d said the wrong thing, but it was the truth. They were friends. Best friends, sure, but that’s was all. 

“I’m still technically thirty-three years old, Harry.”

“So is Regulus,” Harry said. 

“Yes, but no one is going to treat Regulus or myself as if we’re thirty-three-year-olds, are they? Just like no one is going to treat Draco as if he’s twenty-two. Because, we all have the bodies of much younger men. Boys, in Draco and my case.”

Tom continued to wear a blank expression. 

Harry sighed. “Okay, but it’s still weird.”

“Oh, of course it’s strange. They are your two oldest friends and you’re teenagers.” Tom made an unattractive noise, the blank expression leaving for one of distaste. “I hate teenagers, I hate being surrounded by them on a daily basis, and I hate that I still have a body of one.”

“The body of one?”

Tom gave Harry a dark look. “Yes. While my mind might be mature, my body is not. It behaves as any other teenager’s. I believe the same goes for Draco. He got to grow up, then de-aged himself. Just think, right now, if you went back to being eleven. Wouldn’t that be horrid?”

Harry thought for a moment. Part of him was a little wistful for himself at eleven. He didn’t really know about Voldemort, he’d just found out about this whole new world that saved him from the Durlseys, and he had his first real friends. 

Yet, no one listened to an eleven-year-old. He remembered how that frustrated Draco more than it did him, as Harry was used to it. Knowing now what he knew, no wonder Draco tended to be so angry at the world. 

“Okay. Fine. But what happens if they break up?”

Tom shrugged. “For a while they will not be friends, likely. But time heals all wounds. And due to the fact they both like you, they will one day be friends again.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“What do you know of your godfather and Lupin?”

“That they used to…you know.”

Tom snorted. “Yes. I do know. I was there for it all: the start, the middle, and the end. And, if your godfather hadn’t gone off and tried to kill Pettigrew, I believe they would have become friends again.”

“They’re not really friends now,” Harry pointed out. “I don’t know what they are, but they are not friends.”

Tom sighed. “True. Bad example. I’m not really cut out for comfort.”

Harry chuckled, slugging Tom in the shoulder. “No. You’re not. I’m going to go get ready for bed.”

With one last look at Tom, Harry slid from the bed and headed for his trunk. 


	19. Quibbling About Marv

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

“You’re not rubbish.”

“You’re actually kind of brilliant.”

“You’re aim is great.”

“If you would please stop, I’ve got places to be,” Draco drawled, feeling uncomfortable by the praise he was receiving for his Beater skills. 

He’d not known he had Beater skills till his first practice. Angelina appeared as if she was going to cry she was so thrilled. The team dynamics had improved leaps and bounds now McLaggen was gone. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Draco,” Angelina Johnson gushed. “We might just win!”

The whole locker room felt jubilant after practice. Draco, on the other hand, felt off center. He’d never been all that great at Quidditch, mostly because he was playing the wrong position. He was still in a position he didn’t particular care for, but unlike Seeker, he was actually rather good at Beater. 

Draco quickly changed and hightailed it out of the locker room before he could be praised further. 

It was rather off putting to have the whole team’s hopes riding on his back. While he ought to be used to it, as he was a former Seeker, he’d grown complacent the past five years.  

Draco entered the Common Room and found Harry seated at the Sulk Table, in fact sulking. Frowning, Draco made his way over.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Liar,” Draco scoffed, sitting down. “You’re not fooling me. What’s gotten your knickers in a twist?”

Harry made a face and glared at Draco. “Nothing. I’m just… _Quibbler_ publishes on Monday. Tomorrow, you might not realize this, is Monday.”

Draco sat back. “Ah. Yes. I guess that would get your knickers in a twist.”

“Why? Did you think I was upset that you’re the new Gryffindor Quidditch star?”

Draco shifted guiltily.

“I’m not, you clot. I just want us to win. Also, after George and Fred leave after next year, if you don’t make Chaser, you’ll defiantly make Beater.”

Harry grinned.

“So, you think maybe your story will be publish this Monday?”

Harry shrugged, the grin slipping off his face and landing in a puddle on the ground. 

“What happened to Potter?” Harry whispered, looking back out the window.

“No clue,” Draco admitted. “I think, though, he gained a lot of believers. Umbridge outlawed the _Quibbler_ article, which of course made sure everyone read it.”

“Did you?”

“Of course.”

“What’d you think?”

Draco was silent. “Honestly? I assumed Potter was doing it for attention, yet it started me questioning things. Why would my father of all people follow someone as sadistic as Voldemort?”

Harry made a face that was a combination of pity and helplessness. 

“I know better now, Harry,” Draco quietly said. “I know last time Marv was in a body, he was as horrid as he was when I was part of his group. And why my father follows…that I cannot really understand if I am honest. My mother sympathized because it was the only option to keep her family together. Also, I believe the first time, her beliefs were that purebloods were supreme.”

“What changed?”

“Her knowing you,” Draco guessed. “It’s the only difference. That I befriended you that day in Diagon Alley. She took one look at you and everything was different.”

Harry nodded. “I’m glad. I don’t like imagining Voldemort…”

“Living in our house?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, it is highly doubtful he’ll take up residence at Grimmauld Place. Mostly because I doubt he’d ever find it,” Draco assured.

Harry snorted.

“What do you think Umbridge will do to me? For the article in _Quibbler_?”

“What can she do? Forbid you from further Hogsmeade visits? Continue monitoring your mail? Forbid people from reading it?”

“She can’t put me in detention can she?”

“If Hermione can stand to cut into her own hand, you can,” Draco snapped without thinking.

“Draco, I’ve had detention with her before. I was just wondering, geesh.” 

Draco schooled his expression and apologized for his outburst. 

“What’s going on with you two?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual.

“What do you mean?” Draco evaded.

He honestly had no idea what was going on. He knew he liked Hermione in more than a friendly way, yet had no clue how she felt. She’d always been…physically demonstrative towards him since he’d met her first year. The touches hadn’t changed, other than how they made his chest tight and his stomach swoop.

He loathed being a teenager.

Harry sighed, rolled his eyes, and started talking about Quidditch. 

* * *

Monday morning Harry appeared nervous. He was already awake and in the Great Hall by the time Draco managed to drag himself out of bed. He was wringing his hands together and staring at the enchanted ceiling, clearly waiting. Draco slid into his usual seat and began to fill his plate.

“Eat. Umbridge is staring at you,” Draco said out of the corner of his mouth. 

Harry began to fill his plate. 

Hermione sat down across from them a moment later.

“It’s today, isn’t it?”

“Harry thinks so,” Draco replied, digging into his scrambled eggs. 

When the owls finally entered, several students eagerly looked skywards, as they had since the escape of the Death Eaters. Owls landed, students eagerly took their mail, and dug in. An unfamiliar owl landed before Harry and Harry stared. 

“Harry,” Hermione warned.

Harry shook his head and took the package from the owl. Slowly he tore open the package as more owls landed in front of him. Confused, Harry blankly stared at the owls. As he did, several more landed on the table. 

“What is going on?” Neville asked, looking amazed as several more owls landed, one on his head.

“Harry,” Hermione said, plucking a cylindrical package from a screech owl. “This is what you want.”

She handed the package to Harry, who dropped the one he was trying to open. He popped the lid on the tube and slid the magazine out. Draco leaned over and peered at it. Harry grinned sheepishly up at him from the glossy cover. In large red letters across his picture were the words: 

**HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN**

“That is not the headline Tom wanted,” Harry muttered. 

“No, but Daddy liked this better,” Luna said, drifting up behind Harry. She squeezed herself between Draco and Harry. “It came out yesterday, actually. It’s gotten a good response so far, but Daddy didn’t get your copy in the mail till last night I guess. Oh, you’ve got fan mail.”

“Figures,” Harry muttered, setting the magazine aside. Neville picked it up and gazed at it. 

“Do you mind if we…” Hermione motioned to the various owls around. 

“Help yourself,” Harry said, waving his hand at the various owls. 

Draco, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and Atlanta started ripping open envelopes while Harry looked bemused. 

“This bloke thinks you’re offer your rocker,” Draco reported, eyes scanning the letter. 

“This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo’s,” Atlanta said, looking disgusted as she crumpled the letter up.

“This one looks okay,” Hermione said, handing it over to Harry. “She believes you.”

“This one is in two minds,” Ginny said, having joined in the opening of fan mail. “Says you don’t come across as a mad person, but he really doesn’t want to believe You-Know-Who is back so he doesn’t know what to think.”

Atlanta snatched the parchment. She made a disgusted noise and lobbed it over her shoulder. 

“Here’s another one you’ve convinced!” Hermione excitedly cried. “‘Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the _Daily Prophet_ has treated you unfairly…Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I mean Marv, has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth…’ Oh, this is wonderful.”

“Another one who think’s you’re insane,” Draco sighed, chucking the letter over his shoulder. He opened another. “Ah, this one believes you. And sent a picture. Oh…”

Draco stared blankly at the rather racy photo, who smiled up at him, batting her eyelashes. 

“What is going on here?” a falsely sweet, girlish voice asked above their heads. 

Draco wadded up the photo, set fire to it, and hid it under a goblet. By the time he was done, Umbridge was glaring at Harry who hadn’t bothered to answer her. 

“Why have you got all these letters, Mr Potter?” Umbridge asked slowly, her face tight. 

“Is that a crime now? Getting mail?” Hermione demanded.

“You are not at your House table.”

“I always eat here.”

“Ten points from Ravenclaw. Get back the correct table.”

Hermione appeared as if she was going to shout at Umbridge, but instead grabbed a huge pile of letters and stalked off, shortly followed by Luna. 

“Well, Mr Potter?”

“I got mail?” Harry asked, looking completely and utterly bemused. 

“I see that. Why have you gotten so much mail?”

“I met a reporter,” Harry said. “He asked me some questions.”

“You what?”

“I met a reporter,” Harry said a little louder and slower. “He was interested in what I had to say. About Marv.”

“Marv?”

“You didn’t,” Draco muttered, grabbing up the magazine. He quickly turned to the page of the interview and scanned. He managed to see that indeed Tom had used Harry’s nickname for Voldemort instead of the mouthful He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named before Umbridge snatched the magazine out of Draco’s hands. 

“You did this last Hogsmede weekend, did you?”

“Well, that’s when I met him. Reporters usually don’t lurk around Hogwarts,” Harry logically pointed out. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You told lies!” Umbridge shirked, turning an ugly, patchy violet. “How dare you…how could you…you must not tell lies, Mr Potter. I will have to teach you not to tell them. The message must sink in.”

Harry shivered.

“You will not be visiting Hogsmeade again and fifty points from Gryffidnor. Oh, and a week’s worth of detentions.”

She walked away, clutching _The Quibbler_ to her chest, the eyes of many students following her. 

Harry set his jaw and sat up taller. Draco grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. 

“I’ll take polyjuice and go as you if you want,” Atlanta offered.

Harry startled and stared at her. She was still going through the fan mail, not looking at Harry at all. 

“No. It’s fine. It’s only a week.”

“They are still horrible,” Atlanta said quietly.

“You’ve been through them?” Draco asked, looking shocked.

Atlanta looked up, giving Draco a dark look, her eye flashing amber. “Where do you think I’ve been most nights this year? Gardening?”

She held up her hand, making a fist. The words _I must not tell lies_ appeared in white scars in her own handwriting. 

“What lies are you telling?” Harry asked, aghast. 

“That Voldemort is back. The same lies Hermione is telling. The same lies you’ve now been caught telling.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It hurts less than…you know,” Atlanta muttered, shrugging her shoulder. “Ginny, help me grab these letters. We’ll take them to the Common Room before class.”

“I’ll help,” Neville offered.

The trio gathered the letters up, which had finally stopped arriving, and exited the Great Hall while the muttering grew louder and more and more people stared at Harry.

“You didn’t know?” Harry asked.

Draco shook his head. “I didn’t notice. How horrible are we?”

“Self absorbed.”

“You are teenagers. Of course you are,” Tom’s voice sounded from Harry’s pocket. Harry slapped his hand over his pocket and glanced around. 

No one had heard.

“Shut up,” Draco snapped. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for class.” 

* * *

By mid-morning, Umbridge had issued her next education degree, number twenty-seven. 

And the results were the same as last time: everyone made sure to read what they had been told would cause their expulsion if caught. 

“Everyone is reading it, aren’t they?” Harry asked near the end of the day. “In stealthy ways.”

“Yes. Tomorrow you’ll hear them whispering, discussing it in back of lessons, and in the loos. Umbridge will stalk the school, but she will not find one issue. She seems to have forgotten we can do magic,” Draco chuckled. 

“Well, we don’t in her classes,” Harry muttered. 

Draco was pleasantly surprised that over the next few days, the professors managed to show they were on Harry’s side without actually mentioning the interview due to Educational Decree Number Twenty-six. Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty points when Harry passed her a watering can; a beaming Professor Flitwick pressed a box of sugar mice into Harry’s hands at the end of lesson and said, “Shhh!” before hurrying off; and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class (and a very disappointed Umbridge) Harry was not going to suffer an early death after all. (Draco was told about this by Harry, as he was not actually there, but in Runes where he was awarded fifteen points for simply showing up.) 

“Oh, and I will become Minister of Magic and live to the ripe old age of 348. Oh, and I’m going to have twelve children,” Harry reported as they sat in Transfiguration. “I can’t imagine twelve children.”

Draco was going to reply, but Finnigan appeared before their table in Transfiguration and mumbled, “I just wanted to say I believe you. And I’ve sent a copy of the magazine to me mam.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Harry fumbled. 

“Sorry I acted like a prat,” Seamus muttered before vanishing back to his own seat.

And of course, Nott was furious, along with Crabbe and Goyle. 

“I love that they can’t contradict you because then they’d have to admit they read it,” Hermione whispered as the three glared at them in the library one evening. “Though, what I think I love the most is the creative charms Fred and Geroge have come up with for the huge poster in your Common Room to say.”

Harry groaned, hiding his face in his hands. The fact the twins had charmed a larger than life poster of the front page of _The Quibbler_ to say things like “The Ministry are morons” and “Eat dung, Umbridge” was not a source of amusement to Harry, but rather a huge embarrassment. When the charms wore off, it was just annoying, but at the same time highly amusing. 

“I think I’m going to go. Hopefully tonight they don’t charm it,” Harry grumbled. “Night.”

Harry gathered his things and exited the library. 

Hermione sighed. “He’s doing well with the detentions.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t keep him as long as she keeps you.”

“That’s because he gives the appearance of being obedient,” Hermione muttered. “He’s not had a shouting match to her face. He hides his stubborn.”

“Why do you do this to yourself? I can somewhat understand why Potter kept doing it, but you? Why do you keep snapping at Umbridge.”

“Because…she’s a bully and I will not let her bully me.”

“But she’s a professor.”

“Just because someone gave her a position of power does not mean she can abuse it to belittle us. She is not imparting knowledge on us anyhow and is hindering our learning and not preparing us for the real world.”

“Is that what you get into shouting matches with her about?”

“No. I usually shout about Marv.”

“Hermione.”

“Well, someone had to keep saying he was back.”

Draco sighed. 

“I also told her she wasn’t teaching us properly,” Hermione muttered. “I’m tired. I think since I do not have detention tonight, I will retire. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hermione got up and left the library. Draco remained a few more minutes before leaving to avoid being cornered by Nott. Harry had named Draco’s father as a Death Eater. People stared at him as he went about his day, but no one said anything. Flitwick patted him on the shoulder, Sprout gave him some extra dirt for some reason, and McGonagall gave him what he thought was supposed to be a reassuring smile. No one had approached him, mostly because everyone knew he was firmly in Harry’s corner (as was his mother). However, Nott and his cronies would likely approach him at some point if given a chance. 

Draco entered the dormitory (Fred and George had charmed the poster again to shout inappropriate things) to find Harry asleep on his bed. He’d left his bed curtains open, which struck Draco as abnormal. 

“Tom?” Draco quietly asked. 

Tom poked his head out from under the bed. 

“He said his head hurt. He didn’t even manage to get undressed before he fell asleep. I didn’t bother trying to close the curtains,” Tom muttered quietly. “He’s been like this since he fell asleep.”

Harry was not sleeping peacefully. 

“Did you try to wake him?” Draco inquired.

Tom nodded. 

Draco shook Harry’s shoulder, but Harry refused to wake. Draco sent Tom a worried look before he tried again. Harry thrashed around and suddenly screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Draco stumbled backwards, landing on his butt on the cold, stone floor. Harry flailed madly till he fell out of bed, landing on half on top of Draco. 

“Harry, Harry, calm down,” Draco said, trying to grab Harry’s shoulders. 

Harry stopped struggling and sagged into Draco, breathing heavily. He buried his face in Draco’s shoulder and clutched the front of Draco’s robes. 

“He knows.”

“Knows what?” Draco asked with fiend calmness, trying to figure out what to do with his arms now that Harry was pressing himself into him. He glanced at Tom, whose lips were pressed together and he was working really hard to not move any muscles in his face. 

“That only he or I can get the prophecy,” Harry said into Draco’s neck.

“Harry?” Tom asked quietly, inching forward. When he reached Harry and Harry hadn’t responded, he put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. When Harry continued to channel a log, Tom pulled him off Draco. Harry went easily. He stared at Tom as Tom put both hands on Harry’s shoulders. “It’s okay. We knew he’d eventually figure it out.”

“I was him again. I saw through his eyes as he spoke to Rookwood,” Harry said, staring hopelessly at Tom. 

Tom reached down and ran his hand up and down Harry’s arm. 

The door creaked open. Tom flung himself under the bed while Harry looked like he was about to follow him. Draco got to his feet as Dean and Seamus both stared at Draco and Harry with a look of confusion on their faces.

“We interrupt something?”

“Harry had a nightmare,” Draco stated. 

Harry rubbed his face. “Sorry. I’ll close the curtains and put the spells up. Night.”

Harry withdrew into the bed once more, closing the curtains.

“He has a lot of those,” Finnigan said quietly. 

“Yes, he does,” Draco agreed, raking his hand through his hair. 

“He usually silences his curtains, doesn’t he?” 

“Yes.”

Finnigan looked like he wanted to say something comforting, but sighed, went to his own bed, and began to get ready. Dean followed suit, shortly followed by Draco. After getting into bed he pulled out his charmed parchment to message Hermione.

_Voldemort knows about the terms of getting the prophecy as of tonight._

Draco waited a moment before the parchment buzzed and flashed blue.

_Things are moving according to plan, then. On time?_

_I think so. Harry didn’t go into details._

_Alright. Do you want to meet?_

_I figured you were asleep._

_Couldn’t sleep._

_No. We can talk to Harry in the morning._

_Okay. Good night._

_Night._

Draco tucked the parchment under his pillow and tried to go to sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he tried before he actually fell asleep. 

* * *

“Bode was the one who died right after the holidays,” Hermione muttered. “I read it in the paper. He was strangled by a holiday present someone sent him. A Death Eater most likely. They’d have to get rid of him, as soon as his voice returned, he’d tell them what’d happened.”

She looked at Draco.

“I’m sure my father was the one to cast it before,” Draco said, referring to the Imperius Curse Bode had been under. “He’s often at the Ministry and for him to be lurking around wouldn’t be seen as strange.”

“He got Podmore the day of my trail. He was down there,” Harry said. “He must have also gotten Bode.”

“Well, at least the needless deaths and arrests will cease now that Marv knows,” Hermione grumbled, looking upset. “Well, in this case.”

The trio shared a dark look as they sat outside in the freezing cold courtyard during break as to not be overheard. 

“Did you hear Rookwood tell Voldemort exactly how the prophecy had to be obtained?” Hermione inquired. 

“No. I showed up right after from how they were talking,” Harry admitted. 

“Do you think Marv realized you were there?”

“I’ve no idea. Why won’t Occlumency work whilst I’m asleep?”

“What do you mean?”

“It works usually while I’m awake. I think,” Harry admitted. “I mean, I’ve gotten a little better at lessons. Not much, but I haven’t noticed my head hurting as often while I’m awake since I started the getting a little better at lessons. Well, except last night.”

“Tom said you weren’t feeling good.”

“I had a massive headache. Likely from the emotions Marv was feeling when Rookwood told him only he or I could get the prophecy. He was so…frustrated, yet gleeful.”

“He knows Dumbledore would never let you get it,” Hermione put in. “So, he won’t be able to get it until he can lure you away.”

“Yup,” Harry said, popping the word out of his mouth. 

“You’ll just have to try harder at your lessons.”

Harry pressed his lips together and glared at Hermione, who shrugged. He sighed and the three of them stared blankly at the desolate courtyard till it was time to return inside. 

 


	20. The Toss Out

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Trelawney lasted till the end of March. Umbridge threw her out using the same tactic she’d used last time: public humiliation. Draco and Hermione stood on the balcony overlooking the Entrance Hall, crammed together with other onlookers while Trelawney sobbed, shuddered, and rocked back and forth surrounded by her worldly possessions. Draco wondered if Umbridge had had the House Elves pack or if Trelawney had managed that feat on her own. Umbridge, for her part, was lording over the poor woman with a smug, gloating expression. McGonagall broke through the crowds and made her way to Trelawney, pulling a tartan handkerchief from her robes as she went. 

“There, there, Sybill,” McGonagall soothed, patting the smaller woman firmly on the back and thrusting a tartan handkerchief under her nose. “Calm down. Blow your nose on this. It’s not as bad as you think, now. You’re not going to have to leave Hogwarts.”

“Oh really, Professor McGonagall?” Umbrdige asked in a deadly sweet voice, taking a few steps forwards.

Draco could not see McGonagall’s face from where he was standing, but the feeling radiating off the other professor was dangerous. Draco was amazed Umbridge didn’t burst into flames. 

“And your authority for that statement is?” Umbridge challenged.

“That would be mine,” said a deep voice from behind Umbridge, the bang of the oak front doors not echoing due to the fact the entire school was standing around the Entrance Hall. 

Dumbledore radiated power as he strode threw the onlookers towards his professors gathered in the Entrance Hall. He came to a stop and Professor Umbridge glared up at him, then let out an unpleasant little laugh.

“Yours, Professor Dumbledore?” she sneered. “I’m afraid you do not understand the position. I have here—“ she paused to pull out a parchment scroll— “an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Education Decree Number Twenty-Three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she—that is to say, I— feel is not up to performing to the standards required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her.”

Dumbledore smiled, which should have been down right scary if not for the serene expression in his eyes. It was as if he was simply amused by Umbridge. 

“Quite right,” Dumbledore agreed heartily. Trelawney sobbed harder. “As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that power to do that still resides with the headmaster. It is my wish for Professor Trelawney to remain here.”

At this, Professor Trelawney gave a wild little laugh. 

“No— no, I’ll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere.”

“No,” Dumbledore said sharply.

Hermione nudged Draco in the side. Draco turned his eyes to where Hermione was indicating. Harry had joined the crowd, managing to push his way to the front near the hallway leading from the dungeons. 

“Where’s Snape?” Hermione whispered.

“There,” he said, pointing to the left of Harry. Snape was still in the back of the crowd, his face thunderous as he tried to set Umbridge aflame. Draco had never seen Snape look at Umbridge in such a manner. He usually was blank and indifferent. 

“Might you escort Sybill back upstairs?” Dumbledore asked McGonagall. 

Draco waited for Professor Sprout to hurry forward, but instead it was Snape who pushed students out of the way and scooped up a trunk along with Professor Flitwick (who did not use his brute strength but rather magic). Everyone was staring at Snape as he strode after McGonagall and Trelawney when Umbridge finally found her voice once more.

“And what are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?”

Dumbledore smiled again, looking as if he had just heard the best joke ever. “Oh, that won’t be a problem. You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor.”

“You’ve found…you’ve found?!” Umbridge screeched. “Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Twenty-two—” 

“—the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if— and only if— the headmaster is unable to find one,” Dumbledore recited. “And I am happy to say that on this occasion, I have succeeded. May I introduce you?”

Dumbledore turned to face the open front doors. Draco smirked at the sound of hooves. Instead of watching Firenze walk in, Draco watched Umbridge’s face. She looked a combination of thunderstruck and disgusted at the sight of the white-blond haired, blue eyed centaur. 

“Oh, Dumbledore,” Hermione sighed, tugging on Draco’s arm to get him to move. 

“It’s brilliant,” Draco said as they left the crowd behind. “She hates half breeds.”

“I know,” Hermione said. “You made a note of that. It’s why she refuses to admit Lupin was a brilliant teacher.” 

“Does she still claim Quirrell was the best?”

“Yes,” Hermione muttered. “The man was a moron.” 

“So, you regret giving up Divination?” Draco casually asked as they entered the library. 

“No,” Hermione said. “Do you?”

“I already suffered through the less than helpful classes once,” Draco remarked. 

* * *

After Trelawney’s dismissal, it was the only thing the school whispered about. Draco waited for Harry a few days after the sacking, having gotten out of Arithmancy early. The Divinations class poured out murmuring between themselves. Harry exited looking bemused.

“So, how was the new teacher?” Draco asked, pushing himself off the wall.

“Unusual,” Harry admitted. “We burned sage and mallowsweet and were told to look for certain shapes, yet Firenze didn’t seem bothered when no one saw them. It was like he said one thing, then contradicted himself. It’s like…he doesn’t really know.”

“Nothing is foolproof,” Draco offered.

“Did you feel like it was kind of…useless?”

“It was bizarre,” Draco offered. 

“He told me something odd about Hagrid,” Harry said in a lower voice as they made their way to Transfiguration. “That his attempt wasn’t working and he should abandon it. Any idea what Firenze meant?”

“No. Sorry,” Draco admitted. “Maybe he’s got a new monster he brought back from France? He kept that huge spider in the Forest, right? After Marv chased it out of the castle.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. Guess I’ll talk to him next class. I mean, Firenze was very serious and not that weird-not-really-sure-way he was during class.”

“I think you’d call it being a centaur?”

Harry gave Draco a look and shook his head. 

* * *

Talking to Hagrid next class did little for Harry, who still had no idea what Hagrid was keeping and failing at in the Forest.  Draco couldn’t care less, as the teachers had all upped their workloads now that OWLs loomed closer. The only relief Draco felt was in DMC, where learning was fun. 

And boy did he feel like a nerd saying that. 

Though, Patronus’ were not easy and at the moment,  Draco was not having fun. 

“It’s hard,” Neville muttered, his face screwed up as only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand-tip.

“Yes, it is,” Draco said, producing much the same wisps. 

“Happy memories,” Hermione said in a sing song voice as her otter Patronus soared around the room. “And you look like you might kill someone.”

Draco glared at her and tried to fixate on the memory of returning to the past: when he had realized he was really here, he was really going to change the future, and everything wrong hadn’t happened. He had been really happy. So happy, he’d hugged Dobby, hadn’t he? 

Or maybe not. He couldn’t actually remember. 

“You can practice over Easter,” Hermione said, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Harry, I think I’m doing it!” Seamus Finnigan shouted on the other side of the room. It was his first meeting, having tagged along with Thomas.

Harry was about the praise Finnigan when the bright red light went off above their heads. 

“WANDS AWAY!” Harry bellowed, closing his eyes tight.

Two things happened at the same time: the tables of Muggle chess boards appeared and the door flew open to reveal a furious looking Nott. His expression morphed from furious to triumphant at the sight of them all standing around the room clearly not playing chess. 

“What?” Harry asked, looking around. “We’re playing Musical Chairs…I mean Chess.”

Nott pressed his lips together and sneered. “Where’s the music?”

Music suddenly sounded in the room and Hermione squealed and pushed Neville, who tripped over the hem of his robes. 

“Run!” Hermione shouted. 

It was clear quickly who was from Muggle households as they all began to run around the tables while all the wizarding kids ran over Nott in their haste to exit the room. Their exit upset the other kids playing chess and chaos broke out.

“GET THEM!” Nott shouted. “PROFESSOR! I FOUND THEM!”

“Run, for real!” Draco shouted, throwing open a new door that had appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed Hermione, who was still in the process of playing whatever Musical Chairs was, and ran through the door. It lead into a dark hallway that was twisting up and down, back and forth. When Draco was sure they weren’t being followed, he and Hermione came to a halt and hid behind a tapestry, catching their breath.

“I was so sure that wasn’t going to happen,” Hermione panted. “We took all those precautions.”

“I know. It looks bad that we were all standing when Nott entered. And he’s part of that new squad of peace keepers.”

Hermione snorted. 

Umbridge had founded her Inquisition Squad (name to come) a week ago informally. She did not have the power for students to do her dirty work till she was in charge, but till then she was gathering people around her to support her for when she took power. 

Draco had stupidly thought it was something Dumbledore was doing rather than the Chess Club. 

“Well, if anyone knows what Musical Chairs is, then maybe we’ll be fine.”

“Half the kids ran out the door,” Draco pointed out. “Least to say, Umbridge and Nott don’t know how to play Musical Chairs.”

“Yes, I realize this. Clearly, it’s not a game you play in the wizarding world.”

“What is it?”

“You put chairs in a circle. While music is playing you run around, when the music stops you sit down. There is always one less chair than there are people. The person left without a chair is out.”

“Well, that’s silly.”

“We should…I don’t even know. This is the night Dumbledore leaves, isn’t it?”

“I would say so. It did happen shortly before Easter. But, she doesn’t have any evidence this time. Last time we found the list of members of Dumbledore’s Army. And that’s what the list said!”

Hermione frowned. “Well, we’ll be able to tell who blabbed the true purpose of the Muggle Chess Club.”

“You have the list?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, reaching into her robes and pulling out a rolled up parchment. She scanned the list of names till her eyes found the glowing red one. She groaned. “I knew it. I just knew it.”

“What?” 

Draco didn’t recognize the name at all Hermione was pointing at.

“It’s Cho’s friend. God, why couldn’t she just come alone? It was clear her little idiot friend didn’t want to really join.”

“She knows you, right?”

“She’s in the year above me, so no. Not really,” Hermione admitted. “I know of her and I have no idea how she wound up in Ravenclaw. I mean, I know Luna seems batty, but she’s really not. She craves knowledge, just not the usual sort. All Marietta craves is knowledge of makeup. She, Parvati, and Lavender would get along brilliantly.” 

“And you know those two intimately?” Draco teased.

“Parvati is a prefect,” Hermione reminded him. “We patrol together and she curls her eyelashes with her wand.”

“Well, what could this girl have told Umbridge.”

“For the curse to enact? Just the true purpose of the club,” Hermione muttered. “Let’s go to the Common Room. Hopefully, Harry got away.”

Harry had not gotten way. The DMC members had gotten away (as well as the Chess Club members that no one cared about). 

“Nott grabbed him before he could get one of the magical doors,” one of the twins explained. 

Hermione opted to remain in the Gryffindor Common room for the night, not caring to return to her own House. Most of the people who’d been up and sitting around when they’d arrived, drifted off to bed. By the time Harry returned, pale and furious, only Draco and Hermione were awake. Harry regaled them with the Flight of Dumbledore. It sounded much like how it’d gone the first time (if the rumors were right).

“That hex was nasty, Hermione,” Harry said when he finished the tale. “Umbridge used that to prove the Muggle Chess Club was something it was not it claimed. That was the only actual proof she had, besides Nott catching us all standing around not playing chess.”

“And Dumbledore stated he’d called us all there to form an army?” Hermione asked. “Why on Earth would he do that?”

Harry shrugged. 

“To keep Harry in school and to go off to do something more productive,” Draco offered. 

“He wiped Marietta’s mind,” Harry whispered. “I’m sure of it. She remembered nothing of what she’d done or why she’d wanted to speak to Umbridge.”

“Do you know why she wanted to?” Draco asked. 

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t recognize her past the girl Cho brought with her the first few times.” 

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “Now what?”

“Well, Umbdrige will begin her reign of terror,” Draco drawled, leaning back and staring into the crackling fire. “There will be no more unsupervised free time from now till we escape to the Ministry.”

“Well, that is fine. We’ve got studying to do anyway,” Hermione reminded them. “OWLs and such. I’m sure we did enough during Muggle Chess Club to pass the DADA OWL.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, because that’s why we started the club.”

“To some of them it was why they joined,” Hermione pointed out. 

The three sat in silence and stared into the fire place until the horizon began to change color. Draco realized Hermione had fallen asleep, but Harry was still awake. 

“I felt like I was in a bad movie in Dumbledore’s office,” Harry whispered. “Like everyone had lines, but they didn’t fit the situation. Has that happened to you?”

“Remember going to duel Nott?” Draco asked, eyeing his friend. “That felt very similar to me.”

Harry sighed. “So, Dumbledore leaving was fixed.”

“It seems. Who knows why?”

* * *

The next morning there was a notice from the Ministry of Magic appointing Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) as Headmistress. Without access to the old office, as the staircase wouldn’t let her up, even when she spouted off all sorts of very Dumbledore like passwords, she turned her own office into the head’s office by having Flinch hammer a sign up. 

Hermione grinned when Draco told her. 

“It means Dumbledore is still the rightful Headmaster as far as the magic protecting the school is concerned. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_.”

While no one knew the exact details on how Umbridge got the job, they did know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, and his Junior Assistant to escape whatever led to his downfall. The rumors were wild and most included the Chess Club, now disbanded forever and all members forced into a week’s detention taking place in the Great Hall. (Where Umbridge had gotten that many Blood Quills made Draco shudder.) After the first night, Draco stared at his hand. 

 _I must follow the rules_.

“Not all that creative,” one of the twins remarked, looking at his own hand. 

“She’s not creative at all,” the other one stated. 

“Did you see she set up a formal squad for those Slytherins that follow her orders ever so gleefully?” Twin One asked. “They have the power to dock points and give detentions. Her eyes. Everywhere.”

Draco scowled. “You didn’t happen to shove one of them into a cupboard, did you?”

Twin One and Two looked a combination of impressed and shocked.

“You did.”

“He didn’t dock us points, now did he?”

“Not that we care. We don’t really care all that much about getting in trouble any more.”

“Oh?” Draco asked. 

“Yes, I feel our lives lie outsides these walls,” Twin One said, looking out the window. 

“So, we’ll cause a bit of mayhem before we go,” Twin Two flippantly added.

Draco grinned, remembering the brilliant pranks the two had pulled before their epic exit.

“Give her hell,” Draco urged. He was greeted with identical evil grins and laughed for the first time in weeks. 

* * *

“Umbridge just tried to drug me,” Harry announced, watching a firework fly over his head. “She wanted to know if I know where Dumbledore is, which I don’t, but still. She tried to give me that truth potion. She doctored my drink.”

“How did you know?”

“She offered me tea, Draco. Honestly.” 

“Ah. Good key to being poisoned. Must never offer tea in the future.” 

Harry snorted. 

“She also asked me where Lupin is,” Harry said. “Why would she ask that?”

“Because she hates half breeds?” Draco guessed. “And for a werewolf, he’s got a lot of wealth, thanks to Addy Black. That likely makes her very mad. Oh, and due to Addy, no one knows where he lives. Most werewolves have to file their homes and such. Lupin honestly can’t past he lives somewhere in Glasgow due to the spells on the flat.”

“I asked her why and she said it was none of my business. Do you think the Ministry is hunting werewolves down?”

“Not yet. And even if they are, they’ll never find Lupin,” Draco said, watching another dragon fly over their heads. “These are really brilliant.”

“I love the fact that none of the professors know how to get rid of them,” Harry giggled.

There were currently two in their Charms classroom and they were waiting upon Umbridge to come take care of it before beginning lessons. Flitwick could easily get rid of it, but he pretended to be completely helpless. 

“This must be the worst start of a job for anyone,” Harry commented, leaning back and smiling. 

Draco smirked as a disheveled and soot-blackened Umbridge tottered into the classroom to aid Professor Flitwick in ridding himself of the bright red fireworks that were shooting around his classroom. 

* * *

The next evening, Draco was busy working through his mounds of homework when a very pale Harry Potter stumbled in, looking as if someone had died. Draco packed up and followed Harry upstairs to the dormitory. 

“Harry, what’s wrong? Did Snape try something—”

Harry sharply turned and looked horrified, so Draco stopped talking. 

“I…I…I…” Harry was unable to form words and looked at the ground. Draco stayed silent, waiting for Harry to gather himself together. “I know you told me Snape and my father didn’t get along, but you didn’t really know why, right?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the black-haired boy. “You stuck your head in Snape’s Pensive, didn’t you?”

Harry turned bright red. 

Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Of course Snape was bullied,” Draco said. “There is always a bully and someone to bully. In the past, I bullied Potter.”

“Did you ever jinx me in front of the whole school, turning me upside down to show off my dirty pants to the entire world?”

“Uh, no. I did attempt to curse Potter multiple times in his life,” Draco offered. “And one time in sixth year I tried to cast an…well, an Unforgivable at him.”

Harry blinked. Draco didn’t share that whatever Potter had thrown at him ought to have been an Unforgivable. He had cast the first nasty spell, Potter had simply reacted with the nastiest legal curse he knew. 

“Sixth year was a very bad, a stressful year and he caught me at a an extremely bad time,” Draco defended himself, balling his fists together.

“Yeah, okay. I know Nott bullies me and lots of others, but my dad and Sirius were…cruel. It was a sport to them. Sirius was bored, so they picked on Snape.”

Draco wasn’t sure what to say, being a former bully himself. 

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I was jealous of Potter,” he admitted. “Others…just because I could. People would never like me, so I made them fear me.”

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“Because I was trying to be my father and no one likes him,” Draco said. “I was cruel, mean, and hid who I wished to be from the world. I wanted to be Potter. I wanted two true friends, I wanted to be _liked_ , Harry. I was desperate to be liked and Potter rejected me for the poor, rude, dim Weasley.”

Draco slapped his hand over his mouth when he finished his tirade, staring wide eyed at Harry, who gaped at him. 

“And you got it. You went back in time and became my best friend,” Harry spat at him, suddenly looking furious. “Do you feel better now?”

“No, he doesn’t. Will you two stop?” Tom demanded, appearing out of nowhere. Harry jumped, staring at Tom, who looked incandescent. “Yes, Draco time traveled. Yes, he became your friend due to this, but do not think for a moment, Harry Potter, that Draco does not _care_ about you as a friend ought to. You also forget, I was there when your father and Sirius were tormenting Snape. I doubt you saw the memories of what Snape dished out in retaliation, did you?”

Harry stared at the ground. “No. I did not. I just saw one memory. From their fifth year. You weren’t there for that.”

Harry looked up at Tom sharply. 

“No, but I witnessed enough between them before your father finally gave up,” Tom evenly stated. 

“Why’d he stop?”

“Because Sirius did something inanely stupid,” Tom replied. “It worked as a wake up call for all of them and they ceased tormenting Snape. He still tormented them, but no longer did they go after him as sport.”

“What did Sirius do?” Harry asked.

“You will have to ask him yourself,” Tom said, sinking onto the bed and floating above it a little. “Now, apologize to Draco.”

“Riddle, I don’t—” 

Tom shot Draco a look that made his blood go cold, as it was reminiscence of Voldemort when he meant business. Granted it looked different due to Tom having hair, normal looking eyes, and a nose, but still. It was not often Draco had visual reminders Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort had been at one point the same person. 

“But, it’s true. He only became my friend because he came back in time,” Harry said, sounding stubborn. “It was all part of his overall plan to be my friend. Like it was step one: Befriend poor, pathetic, desperate Harry Potter.”

“I wanted to be Potter’s friend when I was eleven,” Draco quietly reminded Harry. “Potter rejected me because I was a prat. He had every right to do so. When I came back in time, yes, it was strategic speaking to you that day in Diagon Alley, but by the time we parted ways, I liked you, Harry. I wanted to be your friend, Harry.”

“He’s always made a point to differentiate between you and Potter. You’re never the same in his head,” Tom pointed out. 

Harry rubbed his head. “I feel as if we’ve had this argument before.”

“We’ve likely have,” Draco said, sitting down on his bed. “Harry, you must understand, I am not proud of what I did in the past. It is partly why I am glad I got a do-over. Not everyone is able to do things over again and while it’s trying sometimes, I’m thankful for it. I’m sure if Sirius really had all the information on Snape…maybe he wouldn’t have tormented him as he did.”

Tom snorted. “Yes, he would have. Black was a pureblood brat from the moment he entered Hogwarts. He had been bred from birth to bully those like Severus Snape. He was poor and a half-blood.”

“So, it had nothing to do with him being in Slytherin?” Draco snorted.

“In Black’s case, it had little to do with that. I have no doubt Severus Snape was bullied within his own house.”

Tom gave Draco a look that made Draco stare at his feet in shame. 

“You bullied your own Housemates?”

“Some. Depended on their status,” Draco muttered.

“It is how the pecking order is achieved within Slytherin. Those without status on the outside don’t have any status within Slytherin. Unless it is fought for,” Tom said as if he was speaking about the weather. “Gryffindor is very different. I have no doubt Nott bullies Ronald every chance he gets.”

“I ignored Nott’s existence until Potter’s interview was published listing our father’s as Death Eaters,” Draco quietly admitted. “Ignoring someone’s existence is a form of bullying, as Nott had no friends. He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him because I deemed him unworthy.”

Harry looked horrified. 

“He does the same in his own house,” Tom assured. “Zabini and his friends are standing up to him, though. They disregard all the old ways.”

“Just simply by existing together they are going against all the old ways,” Draco pointed out. “Zabini always existed above House politics. I’m not sure why this time he’s picked up Ronald and the other two girls, but since then, I’ve noticed that each year has a group of floaters that do not adhere to the old ways.”

“Slytherin House is changing,” Tom grinned.

“How did we get on this topic?” Harry moaned. “I was furious and angry. My father—” 

“Changed,” Tom assured. “Yes, he was a bullying prat—”

“Why did my mum even date him?” Harry wondered. “She stood up to him and defended Snape.”

“She did?” Draco asked. 

“Of course she did,” Tom said at the same time. “Lily Evans was kind and righteous. Also, fifth year, I believe they might have still been friends.”

Harry choked as Draco gaped.

“What? Did I not tell you that?” Tom innocently asked as if he had not dropped a huge dung bomb on them. “Ah, I guess I did not. I’m not exactly sure how or why they were friends, but they were no longer on speaking terms by the time I arrived, yet she mentioned him in passing a few times whilst we were working together.”

Harry looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon. 

“I don’t understand,” Draco said, blinking. “She was a Muggleborn.”

“That she was,” Tom agreed. “And a brilliant one, more powerful than anyone else in their class.”

“What else do you know?” Harry asked, always greedy for information on his mother. 

“I’ve told you all I know of Lily,” Tom said softly, looking sad. “Other than her friendship with Snape, I guess. They worked on spells together.”

“So did you,” Harry said.

“Yes, because she’d lost Snape to work with, Addy thought we should work together,” Tom quietly explained. 

“Wow.”

Harry sat down on the bed next to Tom.

“I wonder if it was after that…incident by the lake if they stopped being friends,” Harry wondered. “He called her a…you know.”

“He didn’t,” Draco said, looking askance. 

“Yeah. She was furious,” Harry breathed. 

“In the other timeline, Snape was always telling Potter how much of an arrogant prat his father was,” Draco remembered. “I guess he was telling the truth. Partly.”

Harry nodded. Tom snorted.  

“He did change,” Tom said quietly when Harry glared. “And that’s the important part. He stood up for those who were unable and Dumbledore made him Head Boy. Doubtful Dumbledore would have if James Potter hadn’t stopped acting like a child.”

“But, Sirius?”

“Sirius is always a child,” Tom sneered. “I’m sure he only stopped…it’s not my place to say. Ask your godfather. It is his story to share.” 

Harry nodded. Draco peeked at him from under his fringe. In response, Harry chucked a pillow at Draco’s head and began to ask him about Quidditch practice. 

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for all the kudos, reviews, and bookmarks! Only eight more chapters to go, guy!**


	21. What Do You Want to Do When You Grow Up?

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Draco stood staring at the announcement that appeared on the notice board over the Easter holidays whilst he was away stuffing chocolate eggs down his throat while studying in the silence of the Black Family library. The notice was accompanied by an assortment of pamphlets, leaflets, and notices about various careers available in the wizarding community on the tables in the Common Room. The combination of these items made Draco feel ill.

“Why are you green?” Harry asked as he sifted through some of the information on the table. “Didn’t you do this already?”

“Yes. But it didn’t matter,” Draco hissed. “I was going to do the same as those before me: mind the manor. I’d make connections in the Ministry, but I’d never hold a real job. I’d be…”

Draco had no idea how to describe what wizards of his standing did— mostly because he couldn’t say he’d be like Sirius or Regulus. Neither of the Black brothers spent their days as Draco’s father had and his father’s before. Draco was pretty sure Sirius had no clue he even had a study to conduct business within. While Regulus likely knew where the study was located, he spent no time in it nor at the Ministry stuffing gold into the pockets of politicians. 

“Oh, yeah. Royalty,” Harry said, nodding his head in understanding. “When are you scheduled to meet with McGonagall?”

“After you on Monday,” Draco replied. 

“Here. Read about Healing,” Atlanta offered joining them and handing Draco a leaflet containing the crossed bones-and-wand emblem of St. Mungo’s on the front. “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll get an E on the NEWTS in everything.”

“This is all frightening,” Ginny muttered, sitting down and grabbing one marked SO YOU THINK YOU’D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS. “How are we supposed to know what we want to do when we grow up?”

“Exactly,” Draco agreed, eyeing Harry who had picked up one titled HAVE YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES TO TRAIN SECURITY TROLLS?

“I’d like to be an Auror,” Harry proclaimed, handing Draco the pamphlet on the trolls. “You can train trolls.”

Draco glared at Harry. 

“What? You’ve no clue what to do because you’re basically royalty. I mean, most of them go into the armed services before they take up royal duties. Well, if they’re dudes.”

“Dudes?” Draco drawled.

“I heard it on TV,” Harry defended.

“Tee vee?” Ginny asked, looking curious.

“Telly,” Atlanta said, picking up MAKE A BANG AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL ACCIDENTS AND CATASTROPHES. 

Ginny still looked confused, but no one clued her in on what a TV was or what the hell _dudes_ were.

“Why do you even need a career? Aren’t both of you going to be scions of the Nobel House of Black?” Atlanta inquired, tossing a leaflet down. She pinned the pair with her amber-blue eyes, which were more amber than blue today. 

“No. I’m going to be an Auror. Sirius was one before…you know,” Harry said. “It’s what I want to do.”

“I’m going to play Quidditch,” Ginny announced, sitting back and crossing her arms across her chest. 

Atlanta gave her a look, then turned to Draco. 

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. 

Last time, he’d stated he wanted to be a Potions Masters, like Snape. Mostly to suck up, partly because he liked Potions and he needed something to claim to want to be studying towards. Being a Master was an acceptable position for someone like Draco. Not that he’d actually have gone on to be a Potions Master, due to his position within society. Just like those princes in the Muggle world would never go on to become…professors or doctors or whatever the equivalent of Potions Masters were in the Muggle world. 

But, since he wasn’t under his father’s thumb, he might be able to have a career. He’d never thought about it due to the fact he wasn’t sure if he’d even live to see seventeen again. If Voldemort returned, he’d not need a career because he’d be fighting for his life and likely in hiding. However, if they defeated Voldemort before he got anywhere, Draco would need something to do. He leaned forward to look through the papers. 

By the end of the evening, Draco had less of an idea of what he wanted to do and more what he had no interest in doing. 

* * *

Draco arrived early at McGongall’s office for his meeting. He’d gone to the first half of Runes, which was a mistake as he’d had to leave as the professor was getting to explaining something complicated. He’d have to have Hermione explain it later. Draco stood outside the office and heard raised voices on the other side of the door. A moment later, the door swung open and Harry hurried out, looking a like he couldn’t believe what he’d seen. The shouting continued as Harry shut the door. 

“What happened?” Draco asked, standing up.

“Umbridge was in there,” Harry whispered. “She wasn’t thrilled to hear I wanted to be an Auror.”

“They are fighting about that?”

“McGonagall said she’d do everything she could to make sure I became one. Umbridge is less than pleased,” Harry said. The shouting got louder. Harry grinned and said, “I better get going. I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, I’ll likely miss most of DADA.”

“Lucky,” Harry muttered, ambling off down the hallway. 

After another ten minutes, the door wretched open and Umbridge stormed out of the office, a thunder cloud above her head. Draco waited a moment before he poked his head into the office. McGongall looked like a cat who’d got the canary. She quickly straightened her glasses and peered at Draco.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon or are you going to come in, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco entered, closing the door behind him. He took the seat across from her desk and set his bag on the ground. She shuffled through the papers on her desk till she found what she was looking for. 

“This meeting is to discuss ideas for what career you would like to work towards and what classes you’ll need to take in sixth and seventh year,” McGongall started, “have you any thoughts about what you’d like to do upon leaving Hogwarts?”

“No.”

McGongall gave Draco a blank look before looking back at the parchment in her hands.

“You have top grades in all subjects,” she said. “You can do anything you want if you get OWLS in each. But, what you want to do will determine which subjects you’ll be taking at NEWT level.”

“Yes. I know. I have no idea what I’d like to do.”

“Honestly, Mr Malfoy, you must have some idea.”

“When I was little I wanted to be a dragon.”

“A dragon?”

“Yes. Not something I can really aspire to, is it?” Draco asked a little bitterly. “I never expected to need or to be able to have a career.”

“No. I guess you would not,” McGonagall agreed. “What has changed?”

“I have no desire to be my father.”

McGongall stared at him, her mouth twitching a little as if she wanted to say something but knew she shouldn’t. 

“Potter wishes to be an Auror.”

“Yes. He’s told me.”

“You could be one as well,” McGongall stated. “Sirius Black was one.”

“He’d been disinherited by that point. Or so the world thought.”

“He’d be one now if they’d let him,” she said. “It is a respectable career and you could keep Potter out of trouble.”

Draco snorted, then apologized.

“No need to apologize, Mr Malfoy. There’s a reason Mr Potter is still with us and I have a feeling you and Miss Granger are to thank for that.”

Draco smirked. “I never thought of being an Auror.”

“Well, think on it. Here is the list of classes you’d need. And they’d be extra pleased if you were proficient in Runes and Airthmancy,” McGongall said, eyeing his classes. “Though you do not need to continue on with those if you wish not to.”

“Alright.”

“Or, you could get your mastery in something that attracts your attention,” McGongall suggested. “Not many get a mastery these days.” She paused as she stared at the paper that told her all about Draco. “You might want to look into Spellsmithing.”

McGongall pushed forward a leaflet that Draco had never seen. He took it slowly and stared at the fancy looking writing on the cover.

“It’s a hard program to get into, but you do have top marks in everything, only trailing behind Miss Granger. And there has not been a Spellsmith since the seventies from Hogwarts. It might be time.”

“I’ve never invented spells before,” Draco said quietly. 

“There’s always time to begin. Read that, do some research. If you have any further questions, please come to see me. Or, if you wish, you can write to the headquarters. I’m sure they will answer any questions you might have.”

Draco dumbly nodded. 

McGonagall shooed him out of her office. Draco headed back to the Gryffindor Tower and into the dormitory. He didn’t need to ask McGonagall or write the Spellsmith headquarters. There was a Spellsmith living in the dormitory (unless he was with Atlanta). 

“Tom?”

Tom poked his head out from behind Harry’s bed curtains, looking concerned.

“What? Where is Harry?”

“In DADA. McGongall suggested I look into becoming a spellsmith.”

Tom straightened and oozed out of the bed and floated a little over to where Draco was standing. He gazed at the dark blue pamphlet in Draco’s hands. If Draco didn’t know any better, he’d say Tom looked almost wistful at the sight of the silver writing dancing across the cover. 

“It’s a hard path. They do not take anyone.”

“I know. Last person they took was you and Addy, wasn’t it?”

Tom nodded. “They make good money.”

“That’s not important to me,” Draco admitted. “What does it really entail? I know they invent spells, but how?”

Tom looked at Draco, his blue eye glittering in a manner Draco had never witnessed before. Tom began to spew out information on his livelihood and Draco witness yet another facet of Tom Riddle the world had been robbed: teacher. 

It’d never occurred to Draco before, but Tom Riddle was brilliant at explaining things when he wanted to be helpful. He had a passion and would have made a brilliant professor. 

Voldemort could have been a professor. Likely for DADA. Now, that would have been…strange. 

* * *

“DRACO!”

Tom and Draco startled as the dormitory door slammed open and Harry appeared, winded and excited. He couldn’t form a sentence but tugged on Draco’s arm while stuffing Tom’s block into his pocket.

“What?”

Harry shook with excitement and said a jumble of noises that might have been words. 

“He’s lost it,” Tom muttered, going into said insane boy’s pocket.

Draco allowed himself to be dragged out of the dormitory and out of the tower. Harry did not regain his words throughout the entire trip to the Entrance Hall. Like when Trelawney was sacked, there was a huge crowed gathered. Harry pushed his way through to the railing (several people were not happy that Draco was now blocking their view). Draco looked around, realizing what was going on by the fact several students who were on the main level were covered in a strange substance. The Weasley twins stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall, clearly cornered by the Inquisitional Squad. 

“SO!” Umbridge triumphantly boomed, marching out of the parting crowd with a look of pure glee on her toady face. “So, you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?”

Remembering that bit of spell work, Draco muttered, “Brilliant.”

Harry squeaked.

“Pretty amusing, yeah,” Twin One said, looking at Umbridge without the slightest sign of fear.

Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness.

“I’ve got the form, Headmistress,” he wheezed, holding a piece of parchment close to his chest as if it were the meaning to life itself. “I’ve got the form and I’ve got the whips waiting. Oh, let me do it, Headmistress, let me do it.”

“Very good, Arugus,” she proclaimed, then turned to face the twins once more. “You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.”

“You know what?” Twin One asked, folding his arms across his chest, peering at Umbridge as if she were in fact a toad. “I don’t think we are.”

He turned to Twin Two.

“Yeah,” Twin Two agreed, nodding his head. “I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.”

“You know, George, I agree.”

“Time to test our talents in the real world, d’you reckon?”

“Definitely.”

Before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together, “ _Accio Brooms!”_

A loud crash sounded in the distance and two brooms came flying down the hall, heavy chains trailing along behind. The brooms did not stop till they were safely in the hands of their owners, no matter what the iron chains wanted. The crowd began muttering, a shiver of excitement palpable. 

“We won’t be seeing you,” Twin One said. (Fred. Twin One was Fred.)

“Yeah, don’t bother to keep in touch,” George said, mounting his broom. 

Fred looked around at the assembled students and grinned. “If any one fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three Diagon Alley—Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes! Our new premises!”

“Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they’re going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,” George added, jerking a thumb at Umbrdige.

“STOP THEM!” Umrbidge roared.

It was too late. Fred and George kicked off before the IS was able to get close. The group had to duck as to not get an iron peg to the head. Peeves, who had been bobbing above all this time, was eye level with Fred as he hovered above the floor. Fred smiled and said, “Give her hell from us, Peeves.”

And just like last time, Peeve swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George flew out of the school to tumultuous applause from the students (and a few teachers) below. 

It was a glorious exit, and ultimately perfect for the Weasley twins. 

“I’m so glad I got to see that,” Draco said. “Thanks for getting me.”

“And me,” Tom said from Harry’s pocket where he’d had his head poked out. Tom vanished back into the pocket at Harry’s panic look. 

“You should see the swamp,” Harry said, finally able to speak again as Umbridge ranted below for someone to go get the twins. 

Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulder and the pair fought their way to get back to the tower. 

“I’ll be seeing it often. It’s in a main hallway,” Draco pointed out.

Harry shook his head. “I thought maybe it was something new. Since you weren’t anywhere. Or had a clue what I wanted to tell you.”

“I was down there in the thick of it almost getting an iron peg to the head,” Draco reminded him. 

“This is totally going down in history, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, it is. And, besides Peeves, we’re all going to give her hell,” Draco grinned. 

“You could speak to the twins on spell creation,” Tom said from Harry’s pocket.

“Tom!” Harry hissed. 

Draco thought about it for a moment, then nodded his head. “I should. It didn’t even occur to me they were creating their own spells.”

“Yes.”

“Tom!”

“It makes sense,” Draco mused. “Maybe this summer I’ll see if I can work with them? See if I like spell creation?”

“You could work with me,” Tom snapped.

“TOM RIDDLE SHUT UP!” Harry shouted.

“Harry, we are alone. Also, you shouted rather randomly at someone who’s not me and someone might have heard that,” Draco teased.

Harry huffed and stomped off. 

* * *

Inspired by the Twin’s example, in the following days, the number of pranks in creased two fold. Like last time, Umbridge and Filch had no clue how to rid the fifth floor corridor in the East wing of the swap, so they roped it off and Filch had to punt students across it all day long. Dung bombs and Stinkpellets were a daily occurrence. Draco was never so pleased he’d mastered the Bubble Head Charm. 

Filch prowled with a horsewhip ready to beat students into submission, but there were so many deviants now he had no idea where to start. The IS was trying to help, but they were also victims of various pranks. Draco was so gratified not to be the victim of any of the pranks this time around, though, he did get vomited on at least once a day by someone using one of the Twin’s Skiving Snackboxes. Draco knew the twins had sold quite a few, but he hadn’t known that his not being on the IS squad meant someone would vomit on him daily in an attempt to get out of class. 

And while the students were having a good go at causing mayhem, the person who was the master of chaos who would make Loki proud was in fact Peeves. He’d taken Fred’s parting words to heart and soared through the school upending tables, bursting out of blackboards in the middle of class, and toppled anything that could be toppled. He locked Mrs Norris up inside suits of armor twice, smashed lanterns and snuffled out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, and caused neatly piles of parchment to burst into flames or fly out windows at random intervals. Peeves flooded the second floor by pulling all the taps in every single bathroom, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall at breakfast, and whenever he fancied a break from all of this, he spent hours floating after Umbridge, blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

And there was nothing Umbridge could do about Peeves. That was the brilliant part. The only person who had the power to really control him was the Bloody Baron, who had oddly gone deaf to Umbridge’s requests. (If they could be called requests.) 

Other than Filch, none of the staff (or the other ghosts) were inclined to aid Umbridge. Harry told Draco that after the Twins had been gone a week, he’d witnessed McGonagall walking past Peeves and telling him the crystal chandelier he was trying to loosen unscrewed the other way.

* * *

The final Quidditch match of the season was Gryffindor verse Ravenclaw and was Draco’s first game as a Gryffidnor and a Beater.

“You’ll be fine,” Angelina assured him, slapping him on the back. “You’re a natural.”

“I’m glad you believe that,” Draco drawled. 

The team all slapped him on the back before they made their way out to the pitch. Draco mounted his broom and quickly got to work. Being a Beater didn’t leave much time to pay attention to what was actually going on in the game, Draco discovered. Trying to keep track of eight people was time consuming and Ravenclaw had a very good team. A fine sweat broke out along Draco’s back as he pelted Bludgers left and right at the various Ravenclaw Chasers and a few times at Cho Chang when she looked as if she might have seen the Snitch. He blocked Bludgers as well from hitting his own Chasers and Ginny.

Draco had no clue how Fred and George were able to carry on conversations with anyone or even really pay attention to anything outside of what they were doing. 

However, while Draco knew the game lasted a long while the first time, he was sure it didn’t last as long the second time before Ginny caught the Snitch, ending the game in Gryffindor’s favor. 

The team cheered, all falling to the ground in one of those team hugs Draco had witnessed but had never been a part of. 

It was strange, especially since the majority of the team was female. 

“WE WON! WE DID IT!” Angelina shouted, hoisting the Quidditch Cup over her head and beaming around at the team, all in a heap on the pitch grass. 

Draco was shocked.

He was on a winning Quidditch team. Well, he’d been on one his first year playing Quidditch, but he didn’t feel any sense of accomplishment. Slytherin had cheated.

Gryffindors didn’t cheat.

Draco had finally won something without cheating.

It felt completely different and he like it. Quite a bit. 

After a long time till the crowd of students made their way off the pitch and headed for the school. Draco went with the crowds, on the lookout for Harry and Hermione, neither which he was able to find. He grabbed Atlanta and asked her where they were.

“I don’t know,” Atlanta admitted, her hair super straight again today and in a high ponytail. “They left with Hagrid shortly after the game started and never returned.”

Draco felt slightly crushed neither had seen his victory.

* * *

Draco didn’t find Harry or Hermione till later on that evening in the mists of the celebration. Both were at the Brooding Table and both were brooding. 

“Hello,” Draco said, trying not to sound bitter. 

“We’re so sorry we missed it,” Hermione said, honestly looking apologetic. “But, Hagrid…well, he finally told us what’s in the Forest.”

“Oh?” Draco asked, perking up a bit.

Hermione glanced at Harry, who was busy glowering out the window. She sighed, turning back to Draco. 

“He brought his brother home with him from France,” Hermione said softly.

Draco blinked a few times. “He brought a giant home? As in it’s here?”

“Yes. He seems to think…”

“He wants us to teach him English,” Harry said and let out a barking laugh. 

Draco let out a shaky laugh. 

“His name is Grawp,” Hermione went on. “He’s sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pines trees, and knows me.”

Harry snorted.

“He called me Hermy,” Hermione stated.

“Hermy?”

She nodded. “He can learn.”

“Hagrid’s lost his mind,” Harry said, turning to face them. “He’s bleeding bonkers, Hermione. We both know it. Grawp is not a child. He is a giant.”

“We promised,” Hermione reminded Harry.

“Only so we could leave!”

“It’s his brother!”

“He’s a full blooded giant! He’s not anything like Hagrid!”

“Oh, so they are all monsters?”

“No, but they shouldn’t be living in the Forest nor being taught English by two teenagers!”

“Why’d he ask you two anyhow?” Draco asked, silently forgiving the pair for missing the game. 

“He seems to think he’s going to be sacked any day now and cannot take his little brother with him,” Hermione said as Harry snorted. “He hasn’t been sacked yet. All he must do is hang on a few more weeks. Honestly, it’d make no sense to sack him this close to exams anyhow.” 

“He gets sacked during an OWL exam,” Draco reminded Hermione.

“Oh, hush.”

“She won’t do it as she did it before. She’ll want to do it quietly and, well, violently as Hagrid is a half-breed and she hates them all equally and doesn’t believe they are civilized. It’s honestly amazing he has lasted this long.”

“He’s only lasted because Umbridge hasn’t got the time to deal with it,” Harry said. “Once we start exams, I bet the pranks and stuff will die down.”

“They better,” Hermione grumped, folding her arms across her chest. 

* * *

OWLs approached with the usual occurrences. The teachers stopped assigning homework and began to revise every lesson. The students all constantly studied and some even began to act strange. Ernie Macmillian developed an annoying habit of interrogating people on their study habits. If Draco hadn’t known better, he would have thought Macmillian was in competition to figure out who was studying the most. Draco waited for Nott to brag about knowing the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years, but Nott had ceased speaking and had grown pale and anxious— just as he had the first time around. He was clearly still terrified of his father’s reaction to his less than stellar academic performance on something as major as the OWLs as he was the first time around. Draco wondered if he ought to tell him it wouldn’t matter due to the fact his father would be happily locked away in Azkban when the results were issued.

“Do you think the fact Gran knows Griselda Marchbanks would help me?” Neville asked one evening. “I mean, Gran’s always telling Professor Marchbanks I’m not as good as my dad…”

“Neville,” Draco snapped, “who cares if you’re as good as your father? You are not your father. Just as I am not mine.”

Neville stared at Draco with big, round eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. You think I’ll scrap a few OWLs?”

“Yes,” Draco said, making a face as if he couldn’t believe Neville would even worry. “Granted, I doubt you’ll do well enough to continue on in Potions, Snape only takes the best, but I have a feeling you’ll welcome giving that subject up.”

“Yeah. But, I’m more worried about Transfiguration. I’m rubbish at that and it’s needed for…stuff,” Neville muttered. “Do you think I ought to buy—”

“Neville, all that stuff on the black-market to increase concentration, mental agility, and wakefulness is rubbish. I’ll help you study.”

“But, don’t you need to study?” Neville questioned. 

“I will be as I aid you. Come, let’s go,” Draco said. 

On their way to the library, Draco confiscated quite a few “study aids” being sold by various fifth and sixth years. Last time around, he didn’t bother to use his prefect status to confiscate so much as steal the study aids for his own use. (None of them worked.)

“It’s going to be a long two weeks,” Neville commented as they reached the library. “Are you sure I couldn’t try out—” 

“Yes,” Draco said, giving Neville the stink eye. He opened the door, holding it open for the smaller, rounder boy. Neville scurried past and Draco swept into the library, where he’d be living for the next few weeks before and during exams. 


	22. OWLS Round Two

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

McGongall gave them the anti-cheating speech, which while sounding unnerving, didn’t sound as frightening when not given by Snape. Also, her distain for Umbridge was showing, and Draco had a feeling that part of her wanted to tell them to cheat and score low as to reflect badly upon Umbridge. 

She refrained.

Harry had made the mistake of agreeing to quiz Hermione. Draco had to hide a smile as she kept snatching the book from him to check to see if she had the answer right even though he’d said she’d gotten it correct. She beaned him on the nose with the corner before Harry snapped.

“Do it yourself!”

Harry stormed off, leaving a bewildered Hermione sitting holding the textbook. 

“Draco, why aren’t you studying as much as the others? I’ve only seen you study when you help me,” Neville inquired the night before their first exam, Theory of Charms. 

“Excuse me?”

“Well, everyone is going mad studying. Harry is sitting over there reading two years of Charms notes under his breaths. Seamus is over there reciting definitions, Dean’s muttering into his textbooks, and Parvati and Lavender are practicing basic locomotion charms. Hermione’s driving everyone else bonkers in her quest to get all the right answers…”

Hermione was bothering a couple Gryffindor sixth years who looked frightened.  

“I am helping you.”

“Yeah, but you’re never studying except when you’re with me. Seamus mentioned it,” Neville admitted, turning a little pink. “Harry said you studied, but no one has seen you except when you’re helping me.”

“I’m studying. Don’t worry,” Draco assured.

He wasn’t really studying as hard as he had the first time. He knew what was coming for the most part. And, if he were honest, the OWLs were easier than he had thought the first time around. 

“I don’t want to be bothering—”

“You’re not. Let’s try the cheering charm again,” Draco suggested. 

“But, how are you going to study for the subjects I’m not taking and you are?”

“Hermione,” Draco said. “I study better with a person.”

Neville gave Draco a look. 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll find someone else to study the classes we don’t share,” Draco said. 

* * *

The Theory of Charms exam went as expected. Draco knew most of the answers and had a feeling that this time around he likely got an Outstanding rather than an Exceeds Expectations.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” asked Hermione anxiously in the Entrance Hall two hours later, clutching the exam paper they were allowed to take with them. “I’m not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time— did you put in the counter charm for hiccups? I wasn’t sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much— and on question twenty-three—”

“Hermione, I do not want to relive the exam,” Harry flatly stated. 

Hermione frowned, turning to Draco.

“Go ahead,” Draco said, motioning with his hand he didn’t mind her rehashing the exam.

Harry gave Draco an annoyed look and hurried off. Hermione continued to rehash the exam (never needing Draco to say anything) until it was time to head into the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione continued to talk about the exam throughout lunch, somehow talking around mouthfuls of food, until it was time to head off to the small chamber besides the Great Hall for their practical. Hermione fell silent as she sat down in one of the chairs left around for students to sit. The room was mostly silent, other than shuffling parchment. Harry rejoined them once he was sure Hermione had returned to silently studying. 

Hermione was called off first to take the practical. Trembling, she left the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle, and Daphne Greengrass. 

“Where do the students go after the exam?” Harry whispered as Hermione vanished behind a door. 

“Out the other side. You know, so they can’t tell us what’s on the exam.”

“You could.”

“Hush.”

Harry fell silent. Five minutes later, Draco was called into the room. Harry wished him luck and went back to silently going over the spells that might be poised to him on the practical. Draco was sent over to Professor Marchbanks once again. On the table was a wine glass, an eggcup, and a container with the rat for the Color-Change and Growth Charms. This time, though, Harry Potter was not going to distract him and cause Draco to levitate the wine to the floor. 

“Alright,” Marchbanks said, squinting at Draco. “Malfoy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Draco replied.

She jotted something down on her parchment and said, “Make the eggcup do some cartwheels.” 

Draco breezed through the charms. His eggcup cartwheeled perfectly, he levitated the wine glass flawlessly, turned the rat green and grew it to the perfectly size. (The first time he’d over done it and the rat had turned blue and swelled to the size of a hog before Draco managed to stop it.) 

“Well done, Mr Malfoy,” Marchbanks said, nodding. “Seems like this years is full of bright ones.”

Draco nodded, hurrying out before he got too smug looking. He had an advantage— he’d taken his OWLs once before.  

* * *

After a night of aiding Neville so he wouldn’t fail, Draco felt a little fuzzy the next morning when he sat down to take the Transfiguration exam. (Neville was dismal at Transfiguration no matter how hard Draco worked with him.) He shook his head a few time and cursed himself later when he realized he’d gotten the definition of a Switching Spell wrong when Hermione later rehashed the entire exam for him at lunch. The practical went swimmingly, though. He vanished his iguana easily. 

Herbology was on Wednesday and held no surprises. Thursday, the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam went better than the first time as Draco knew more this time around. The written questions came easily to him and the practical was a breeze as all the spells he was given Harry had taught in DMC. And the best part: he did them in front of Umbridge. She looked especially sour, which might be due to the fawning Professor Tofty was doing over Harry. Draco had to suppress a smile when Harry cast the Patronus charm. The stag charged right at Umbridge. 

She looked livid.

Friday, Draco had Ancient Runes. He spent Thursday night studying with Hermione, which was mostly her talking and checking her answers and asking the questions then answering them herself. Draco was a little worried, as while he’d taken the exam before, he’d done dismal. So, he tried to study hard.

By the time the exam was through, Draco’s head felt like mush and he was looking forward to two days of no exams. 

“I mistranslated ‘ehwaz.’ I cannot believe it,” Hermione said furiously as they headed to Gryffindor Tower.

“It’s fine. I mixed up a few,” Draco said as Hermione kept talking about the exam. 

Draco was beginning to understand why Harry didn’t want to relive the exams with Hermione. It was horrible to realize all the wrong answers you’d gotten.  

Still, he didn’t stop her. 

Hermione stopped herself as they neared Umbridge’s office. The owner was shirking loud enough to rattle the windows in the hall.  

“IT TRIED TO TAKE MY LEG OFF!” 

Someone replied. 

“GET IT OUT!”

“What’s in there?” Hermione whispered, looking as if she wanted to go get a closer look. 

“Niffer,” Draco replied.

“I WILL HAVE HIS JOB FOR THIS!” 

“Hagrid?” Hermione moaned. “He wouldn’t put a Niffer in there.”

“No. But she won’t wait for proof.”

Hermione looked furious. She stomped off and Draco didn’t see her for the rest of the weekend. 

* * *

“You know, I’m much better at Potions without Snape looming over me,” Neville said happily after his Potions practical on Monday. He was actually grinning as he sat down next to Draco in the Common Room. “And that wasn’t an easy potion to brew either.”

“Nope,” Draco said, popping the word out of his mouth. 

“If only Snape wasn’t the professor,” Neville said mournfully. “But, I doubt I passed the written one, so I guess I don’t have to worry. Snape only takes the highest grades, right?”

Draco nodded. “Only the best of the best.”

Neville shrugged. “Only four more to go.”

Draco nodded again. 

Tuesday Draco had off, so he spent the entire day studying for the hardest exam: Arithmancy. It was a difficult subject and he’d never actually taken it before so he didn’t have an advantage like the other exams. 

Least to say, he was kind of a wreck by the time Wednesday rolled around. Wednesday was a super busy day. In the morning they had the written for Astronomy and in the afternoon was the dreaded Arithmancy exam. 

By the time he’d finished the exam, Draco’s head was complete puree. And he still had the Astronomy practical that night. 

“I think I’m going to take a nap,” Draco announced.

“Don’t you want dinner?” Hermione asked, “It wasn’t that hard, was it? I thought it was alright.”

“No. It was horrible and my brain is pulp. Must de-pulp it,” Draco said, leaving her and heading to the tower. 

The dormitory was empty, save for Tom, who was seated on Harry’s bed.

“I knew it was you,” Tom said as way of explanation on why he was sitting in plain sight. “You’ve distinctive footfalls.”

“Sure,” Draco said, falling face first into his bed. 

Tom snorted, but left him alone. Draco easily fell asleep. He was woken up at ten thirty by Harry, who said it was time to head to the Astronomy Tower. 

Draco bunkered down in order to complete the exam before Umbridge made her move to get ride of Hagrid. Right on schedule, six tiny figures made their way to Hagrid’s hut and went inside. Draco hurried to complete his star chart before the real drama began. He finished filling in the last spot when the roar came, echoing through the darkness. Everyone jumped, several people moving around their telescopes to peer at Hagrid’s cabin. 

“Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls,” Professor Tofty said softly. “Twenty minutes to go.”

Draco set his quill down, shortly followed by Hermione. Harry was looked furious and quickly jotted things down.

A loud BANG echoed around the silent grounds next, causing several people to say, “OUCH!” as they poked themselves with their telescopes. Draco watched as Hagrid’s door burst open and light came flooding out. In the light it was easy to see Hagrid massive figure come out of the cabin, roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by the six people who’d entered his cabin. They were all shooting stunning spells, yet due to his half giant heritage, the spells were useless.

“NO!” Hermione cried, looking horrified.

“My dear!” Professor Tofy said in a scandalized voice. “This is an examination.”

By this point, no one was paying the slightest attention to their exams, but rather the drama unfolding below. It played out as the first time—only this time it wasn’t amusing at all. It was horrible to watch the six people shout at Hagrid to be reasonable while they were shooting stunners at him. 

Draco really wanted to run down there, as he knew what was going to happen next. Tofty tried several times to get back to their exams, but finally gave up when McGonagall showed up, shouting at the six figures, only to get four stunners to the chest. 

All the girls screamed.

“Galloping gargoyles!” shouted Tofty. “Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behavior!”

“COWARDS! RUDDY COWARDS HAVE SOME O’THAT! AN’ THAT!” Hagrid shouted, taking two massive swipes at his closest attackers. They went down immediately. Hagrid picked up Fang, who’d been trying to defend his master, and legged it into the Forbidden Forest.

“GET HIM! GET HIM!” Umbridge screamed, but her remaining helper backed off, only to trip over one of the downed ones. Seeing she wasn’t getting any help, she sent another Stunner, but missed completely. Hagrid vanished into the Forest.

Draco swallowed heavily and looked at Harry, who managed to appear green in the dark, while Hermione vibrating she was so furious.

“Uh…five minutes to go everyone,” Tofty feebly said.

Five minutes took forever.

When it was finally over, Draco and the rest of the fifth years hastily packed away their telescopes and hurried off. Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times as they walked with her to Ravenclaw Tower, but was unable to get ahold of her rage enough to speak. Draco patted her on the back when they reached the stairs that led up to the Ravenclaw entrance. 

“I will see her ended,” Hermione vowed. “She is a foul woman with no right to be employed by the Ministry let alone here.”

“I know,” Draco agreed. 

“Where does Hagrid go?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged.

“Likely wherever Dumbledore is,” Hermione suggested. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Night.”

Hermione stomped off. 

“I don’t want to go to the Common Room. Everyone’s going to be up and talking about it. Even though I knew it was happening tonight…” Harry shook his head. 

“Where can we go?”

“I don’t know. But, I’m not sleepy,” Harry said.

They wandered slowly towards the Tower. They wound up in the Tower, as neither had any idea where to go at that time of night without the Cloak. The entire House was awake and were all chattering on about what had happened. Luckily, no one noticed Draco and Harry and they were able to escape to the empty dormitory. Tom was in the window sill when they entered.

“You know, one of these days it’s not going to be us and someone is going to see you,” Harry scolded.

Tom turned around, his face dark. “She must go.”

“She will.”

“I know, but she must go in the most painful way,” Tom vowed.

Harry gave him a look. 

“We ought to try to sleep. We’ve got one last exam tomorrow.”

“It’s one I’m not going to finish, so I don’t really care,” Harry announced. “I’m not tired.”

“Well, I’d like to pass it, so good night.”

Draco got ready for bed, closed his curtains, and tried to fall asleep. It took him a long time to calm his mind down enough for sleep to overtake, but he finally managed. 

He knew he had a long day ahead of him.


	23. The Planted Vision

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

**A/N: I put a summary at the start of this incase you've forgotten what's happened in the past.**

* * *

In the middle of the History of Magic exam, which was the longest and most mind numbing exam known to man, Harry let out a blood curdling scream and collapsed in a heap on the floor. 

The fake vision had been recieved. 

The Great Hall erupted in noise as Harry hit the floor. Professor Tofty hurried to Harry, helping him to his feet, looking concerned. The other proctor shouted for quiet. 

“Please, continue with the exam! You have a half hour left!”

The students quieted down and scratching quills on parchment filled the air. Draco, though, was unable to concentrate and instead of attempting to complete the exam, he doodled all over it.

He’d failed it the first time. Might as well fail it a second time. 

As soon as the exam was over, Draco and Hermione burst out of the Great Hall looking for Harry, who was unlikely to have gone far. 

“Where would he have gone?” Draco asked. “Do you think he got his cloak?”

“No. Hospital Wing,” Hermione suggested. “Tofty would have made sure he made it.”

The pair shoved their way through students loitering in the Entrance Hall for the Hospital Wing. They made it to the corridor when they ran into Harry, who while ashen did not seem worse for wear. He wore a determined expression and motioned for them to go into an empty classroom. Once in, Draco cast the usual charms to ward the door. 

“So, who did Voldemort claim he had?” Hermione asked. 

“Aunt Narcissa,” Harry quietly admitted, looking at Draco. 

“Was it the place where the prophecy was?” Draco asked, trying not to feel anything at the announcement it was his mother Voldemort had learned meant the most to Harry Potter. (Then again, everyone knew Harry meant more to Narcissa Malfoy than her husband, as Harry lived with her, while her husband had been exiled to France and now lived alone in Malfoy Manor.)

(Well, he likely lived with Voldemort, Bellatrix, and Bellatrix’s awful husband, housemates Draco would never ever wish on anyone. Even his father.) 

“Yes.”

“So he still doesn’t know,” Hermione whispered, looking pleased. “This is good. Quite good.”

Harry pressed his lips together, glancing between his friends. “I know. I’m the best bait.”

Harry made a ta-da motion with his hands as he attempted to smile.

“Alright, we need to let Sirius or Regulus know it’s time. How are we to do this?” Hermione asked, looking worried. “An owl would never reach them fast enough and—”  

“I’ll call Sirius on the two day mirror he gave me,” Harry interrupted. 

“What two way mirror?” Hermione asked.

Harry glanced at her. “Sirius gave it to me after third year, so be able to call him whenever. He and my dad used them in detention. I call him every now and then instead of writing. It’s easier. It’s in my room. Let’s go get it.”

Harry stalked out before Hermione could question Harry further on his magical mirror. She shot Draco a look telling him she was going to talk to him about this later and followed Harry out. Draco braced himself before following on her heels. Since everyone was celebrating the end of exams, no one was in the Common Room when they entered. They all trooped up the stairs to the fourth year dorm. Tom rose up from under the bed as they entered. He took one look at Harry and scowled. 

“Who?”

“Aunt Narcissa,” Harry answered, going to his trunk and digging through it. He pulled out what appeared to be a hand mirror. He sat on the ground and said, “Sirius.”

They waited in silence for a moment till Sirius’s voice came out of the mirror saying, “Harry! How were exams?”

“Where’s Aunt Narcissa?” Harry demanded instead.

Sirius’s voice went serious as he said, “She’s out shopping. Why?”

Harry and Draco both sucked in a sharp breath.

“It couldn’t have been real, Harry. It’s five o’clock in the afternoon. The Ministry is full of workers. There is no way even with the aid Voldemort would be at the Ministry while it’s still open,” Hermione pointed out.

“She’s correct,” Tom said, walking through the bed and to Harry. He became solid as he put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and sunk to his knees next to the smaller boy. “He is insane, driven mad by power, but he’s still not a total idiot.”

“I’ll send Dobby to her,” Sirius offered, realizing what was going on. “DOBBY!”

The group waited in silence as Sirius ordered Dobby to go to Narcissa. It felt like eons till Sirius said, “She’s fine. She’s in Diagon Alley. I sent Dobby back to her to protect her just in case Moldy Trouser gets any ideas. Now, tell me what you lot plan to do now? We never did come up with anything solid, did we?”

Harry worried his bottom lip. “Regulus was in charge of planning.”

“Where is Regulus?” Hermione inquired. 

Sirius didn’t answer, instead asking, “If you don’t go, what’s he going to do?”

“Who knows,” Harry muttered as Hermione let out an annoyed noise. “But, he needs to be made public knowledge and the only way that’s going to happen is if he’s somewhere like the Ministry and someone like Fudge sees him.” 

“If we don’t go, he might go tonight and get the prophecy,” Hermione said. “He knows that only he or Harry can get it. If we go, we control the circumstances. If we wait for him to discover we already know, we loose our advantage.” 

“You said that about last year,” Harry muttered.

“Fixed events, Harry,” Tom gently said. “She is right. Time will require us to face Voldemort tonight as you’ve done each year since you’ve begun school.”

“Except third year.”

“When you had your face off with me,” Sirius tried to joke. “Let me go…see if Reggie is around.”

The mirror went blank whilst Sirius went to find Regulus. Draco sat down on his bed and began to pick at his finger nails. Hermione sunk down next to him and Draco lost his ability to think for a moment.

“I’ve worked it out with Tonks,” came Regulus’ slightly out of breath voice. “We can’t move in until the Ministry closes for the day, but we’ll station ourselves throughout the various chambers in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Except the Death Chamber,” Draco put in. “Try to keep those doors locked.”

Regulus was silent while Harry gave Draco a confused look.

“Right,” Regulus roughly agreed.

“Death Chamber?” Sirius asked. “What the hell is that?”

“Mystery,” Tom dryly attempted to joked.

Everyone stared at Tom. He sighed deeply.

“The Department of Mysteries studies mysteries. What is the biggest mystery? Death. What is Voldemort most afraid of? Death.”

“Oh, yay. Symbolism,” Draco dryly snarked. 

“Then shouldn’t we put him in that room?” Sirius asked. 

“No,” Hermione said decisively. “We need Voldemort to be in a public area of the Ministry where he can be easily seen.”

“The Atrium,” Regulus offered. “We will have to keep the Death Eaters occupied long enough for him to get mad and show up himself. He will hone in on where Harry happens to be, likely, so Harry you need to get your butt to the Atrium as soon as the Death Eaters are distracted.”

“Okay. How’s that happening? I mean, how do you plan to gather all the Death Eaters together and keep them in one spot?” Harry asked.

“What did Potter do last time?” Regulus asked.

Everyone stared at Draco. 

“I don’t know,” Draco sighed. “I wasn’t there, nor did Father wish to speak of it later.”

Tom made a noise that might have been a snort.

“I think scattering the adults throughout the department will do well,” Hermione said. “We’ll draw them out of the prophecy room. They’ll be after Harry and the pro— wait, there is no prophecy to steal. Won’t they notice the blank spot on the shelf before we arrive??”

“Er, we put a fake one there,” Harry admitted. He raked a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“No,” everyone said flatly.

“Oops?”

“That’s good,” Regulus said. “They won’t even know it’s gone.”

Hermione nodded, turning to Harry. “Yes, they will go after you and since they want the globe they won’t try to kill you.”

“But they will try to kill you and Draco,” Sirius pointed out. 

“Well, we cannot stay behind,” Draco put in. “No matter how much I’d rather be safe and sound in my bed, I’m not remaining behind.”

“Nor am I.”

“Or I,” said a new voice from the doorway.

They all turned, Tom sinking down under the bed. Atlanta Lupin stood in the doorway, dressed in an odd looking Muggle outfit topped off with her fancy coat with never ending pockets. While the outfit was hilarious (what was with the short pants and flimsy shoes?), her expression said she was on a warpath.

“He’s done something,” she proclaimed sounding rather prissy, her accent fuller. “What has he done?”

“Vision of a fake kidnapping,” Harry said, tapping his forehead. 

“And he believes you think it was real?” Atlanta inquired. 

“Yeah. I would think so.”

Atlanta nodded, looking away from them. Her whole body language changed and she looked back at them, a different kind of furious expression on her face. 

“You can’t go,” Sirius said. “Remus would—”

“I don’t care what Dad wants. I have to go,” Atlanta said, her voice changing again and sounding more American Southern. Hermione nudged Draco in the side and cocked his head at Atlanta. 

“Why, Atlanta? Why?” Sirius asked. 

“I am going. End of story,” Atlanta said, looking at Harry with a pleading expression all over her face. 

Harry frowned thoughtfully, staring at the taller girl. 

“She’s coming. She’s got every right to face him,” Harry quietly said, looking as if he regretted the choice. “But, nothing drastic. Your life is worth more.” 

Atlanta shot Tom a knowing look. 

“I promise no kamikaze mission here,” Atlanta assured, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She locked her eyes with Tom and said, “I plan to live and if you really took a moment to think, that load of bull I told you last summer made no sense. Seriously, Tom.”

Tom looked furious. 

Atlanta smiled. “I just wanted to see what you’d do if I told you something that crazy. And I’m glad you told Harry. So, what y’all have planned?” Atlanta said, turning away from Tom. 

“We need a diversion to get out of the castle without Umbridge noticing,” Harry said, looking between them all. 

“We need to lure her into the Forbidden Forrest,” Hermione said, an evil glint in her eye that Draco might have liked a little too much. 

“You just want to lead Umbridge to her doom,” Harry accused. 

Hermione shrugged, smirking a little. 

“You know, Granger was kind of mean fifth year,” Harry remarked. “She cursed someone horridly and then set a tribe of centaurs on Umbridge with the help of a Hagrid’s giant half brother.”

“Giant half-brother?” Sirius faintly asked. 

“Oh, yes, didn’t I tell you? Hagrid brought home his half brother from France. He happens to be a full-blooded midget giant.”

“Midget giant?” Sirius echoed while Regulus snorted. 

“Yes, he isn’t as tall or wide as a full grown adult giant,” Hermione calmly reported. “And I am not mean, nor was I mean in the past. The curse needed to be what it was due to the nature of the meetings and the seriousness. It served its purpose.”

“I’m not breaking into Umbridge’s office,” Harry insisted. “I’ve seen what happens and it’s not pretty. So, we’ll just wait for night, then…leave.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll go well,” Draco drawled. “Let’s simply leave. It’s only the four of us.”

“Plus Tom,” Atlanta put in instantly. “He’ll help me keep Voldemort out of my head.”

Tom looked surprised to hear this information, but nodded. 

“I wouldn’t wish to be left behind anyhow,” Tom said, giving Harry a look which made Harry’s cheeks go a bit pink. 

“How are you going to get the Order there? Before they move, they’ll want proof, will they not?” Hermione asked, getting a sneaky look about her. “We need the full force of the Order to show up at some point. Right? Dumbledore needs to be there to duel Voldemort.”  

“Well, if you lot just run off, Snape will likely notice you’re missing,” Sirius pointed out. “If not, Umbridge will notice you’re missing, so she’ll—”

“Tell the wrong people,” Hermione realized. “No. We need to make a lot of noise before we leave. So Snape knows to alert Dumbledore.”

“Or I could just say you called me about some vision.”

“Which you debunked right away,” Harry pointed out. There was a moment of silence before Harry began shaking his head. “I am not breaking into Umbridge’s office. I have no reason to, okay?”

“Fine.”

“What’s going on?”

The group startled, Harry almost dropping the mirror, at the sound of Ginny’s voice. Draco whirled around to find Ginny and Neville standing in the doorway to the dormitory, looking utterly bewildered. Harry quickly hid the mirror behind his back. Tom’s blue eyes were huge and he appeared as if he wasn’t sure if he should bother to go under the bed or not. 

He decided to go under the bed. 

“Was that…was that…” Ginny asked, her face pale and jaw slack as she stared at Harry’s bed.

“Tom Riddle, yes,” Atlanta snapped, sounding exasperated. Her eyes flashed amber as she turned to look at her best friend. “Might as well come out, Tom.” 

“You’ve got Tom Riddle under your bed?” Ginny squeaked, backing into Neville, who still looked utterly bewildered. 

Tom slowly floated out of the bed and hovered next to Harry. Ginny shook. Atlanta put her arm around Ginny, while Neville looked more baffled. 

“He’s not the same one from the diary, nor is he like the boy from the diary,” Atlanta assured. “He’s nothing like the Riddle we both knew. Nothing.”

“He loves Harry,” came a dreamy voice from the stairwell. 

What the heck? Was the Common Room now King Cross Station? Shouldn’t all these people be outside enjoying life and not hanging out in the Gryffindor Tower? 

“Here you all are. Are we all meeting Tom finally?”

Luna poked her head out from between Neville and Ginny. She crawled into the room and sat down across from where Harry was kneeling on the bed with Tom, gazing up at Tom with her huge grey eyes. 

“Hello,” she said, smiling slightly. 

“Hello,” Tom answered, sounding stiff and looking confused. 

“I am so…” Neville trailed off. He waved his arms around, words failing him. 

“This is Tom Riddle at age fifteen,” Atlanta explained, still holding onto Ginny. “In December 1976, there was a potion accident in the attic of the Black’s familial home in London. The result was the Tom Riddle before you, also known as TR DeVinette.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Ginny faintly said. “He’s well known. And older.”

“I aged a photo of myself,” Tom admitted. “Because no one would take this face seriously as a professional.”

He looked disgusted. 

“You’re so pretty,” Luna breathed, staring up at Tom with a look of mild adoration. Tom shifted uncomfortably and moved to stand behind Harry as if Harry would protect him. 

“Ginny, this Tom really is nothing like Voldemort,” Harry said, carefully looking at Ginny. “You know how life experiences make who you are?”

Ginny nodded.

“They’ve had very different life experiences,” Harry explained.

“Also, being tethered to another human being helped me learn about emotions, something Voldemort never bothered with,” Tom quietly admitted, stepping out from behind Harry. He wore a rather determined expression. “I hate Voldemort. I have since I first heard about him, even though I did not realize who Voldemort happened to be till much later.”

“I told him,” Atlanta said, her eyes flashing gold and her Southern creeping in again. “While I was Calliope and in the 1970s.”

“My head hurts,” Neville muttered, sitting down on his bed. 

“So, what…what are you?” Ginny asked, eyeing Tom.

“We don’t know,” Tom admitted, maintaining eye contact but managing not to look imposing. “I…I’m tethered to the magic of Atlanta Black. I cannot exist without her magic, be it in objects or herself.”

“He’s got a wooden block,” Harry offered, turning and picking up the block that was on the bed. 

“And he travels around with me, well, he used to before he got more control over being in the block,” Atlanta admitted.

“How…if you were created in 1976, how are you tethered to Atlanta’s magic?”

“Time travel is a very mysterious thing,” Luna offered. She smiled, turning to look at Ginny. “There were two Atlanta Blacks. One from an old timeline and one from ours. The one from the old timeline lived in the 1970s and created Tom Riddle. The Atlanta in this room was born after the other one died. She then traveled to 1943, then 1977.”

“I time travel often,” Atlanta bragged, snapping invisible braces. 

Ginny looked as if her head was about to explode. 

“I will never hurt you or your friends,” Tom proclaimed. He glanced at Luna. “I care for…Harry as well as his friends.”

“Lo-o-o-o-ove,” Luna sung. 

Tom made an annoyed noise. Harry turned red. 

“It’s complicated,” Atlanta assured. “But, we’ll need Tom tonight and it was high time you met.”

“How long…”

“Since I returned,” Atlanta replied. 

“Atlanta!”

“He spends most of his time with Harry,” Atlanta grumbled. “They’ve bonded. Disturbing, I know.”

“Atlanta!” Tom and Harry shouted. 

“Why don’t we deal with the matter at hand and later we’ll deal with Tom,” Draco suggested. 

“You all can’t go running off into danger!” Sirius shouted, reminding the room he was there.

Regulus burst into laughter. 

Ginny squeaked, looking around for Sirius. Harry sheepishly brought the mirror out from where he’d hidden it behind his back. He turned it to face the group. Sirius was glaring to his left, likely where his baby brother was laughing as if someone had set off some Weasley prank. 

“Tom, talk some sense into theses kids!”

“He knows?” Ginny whispered.

“They’re friends,” Atlanta assured.

“Are not,” both Tom and Sirius proclaimed. 

“We need to alert Snape,” Hermione announced. “That way he can alert the Order.”

“What? Go down to his office and what? Tell him…” Harry stopped talking, hit himself in the head and said, “Duh. Padfoot. I can tell him he’s got Padfoot in the place it’s hidden.”

“What’s hidden?” Neville asked. “And what is going on exactly?”

Harry launched into the explanation, leaving out the time traveling Draco aspect. Neville nodded at the end of the explanation. 

“Dinner starts soon. You can tell him at the Head Table. If you do it then, Umbridge will over hear, freak out you’re doing something sketchy, and then haul you off to question you. You can—”

“Hermione, she’s a horrid toad, yes, but we’re not setting a mob of angry centaurs on her,” Harry sighed. “Tell you what—”

“Are you trying to get in trouble with Umbridge to get rid of her?” Ginny suddenly asked. 

“Yes,” Hermione admitted. 

Ginny smiled a familiar looking grin. “Having studied at the feet of Fred and George, I might be able to help you. Without having to set a mob of angry centaurs on her. Though, that’d be fine, but I wouldn’t want to subject the centurs to that horrid cow.” 

* * *

Peeves must secretly like Ginny Weasley as much as he respected Fred Weasley, as he was more than thrilled to aid Ginny in her quest to be rid of Umbridge. Though, it might be because Peeves was already making Umbridge’s life a living hell and have nothing to do with the fact Ginny had asked for his help. 

“Is this really going to work?” Harry asked, looking at the water balloon he was filling up with his wand. “Pelt her with water balloons doesn’t sound like an original idea nor does it seem like something that would drive Umbridge from the school.”

“Oh, but it will,” Atlanta gleefully said, filling her balloon with a little too much gusto. It burst, soaking them further. She’d already burst three balloons.

Hermione snatched Atlanta’s wand out of her hand and gave her a stern look. “Stop that. How are you putting so much power behind a water charm?”

“It’s Tom’s fault.”

“Is not,” Harry said, flicking the wet hair out of his eyes. “He doesn’t affect your magic like that.”

“He can if he wants. He hates Umbridge.”

Tom appeared out of Atlanta’s arm and gave her a furious look. “I am not lending you any magic to fill up balloons.”

“Get back in here,” Atlanta hissed, eyes darting around. The door to the classroom they were in off the balcony over the Entrance Hall was open. 

“Then stop blaming me,” Tom said, sticking his nose in the air before he creepily poured himself back into Atlanta’s arm.

“Grump,” she muttered, filling the balloon with a little less gusto.

“This is easier than using a hose,” Hermione allowed, tying off another balloon to add to the pile. “Though, I still don’t understand—”

“Why are you guys all wet?” Ginny asked, appearing with several other Gryffindors. 

“Atlanta doesn’t know how to control her magic,” Harry said, giving the taller girl a dark look. 

“Hey, at least you don’t have glasses to clean,” Atlanta said, sticking her nose in the air and sounding prissy.

“What the hell is going on with your voice?” Hermione finally demanded. “Your accent is all over the place.”

“It is?” Atlanta asked, pretending to be confused. “I dunno. Well, do we have enough balloons?”

“Yeah,” Lee Jordan said. “Angelina, take that pile by Harry. I’ll take this one, and Katie and Jimmy grab that pile by Draco.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Draco asked.

“Make a million more appear,” he said, a glint in his eyes. 

“Lee!” Harry shouted. “How many more?”

“Just keep filling them up. Oh, here.” 

Lee reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Use this from now on. It’s something George invented and sent to me. No clue what it does, but he said attach it to a wand and spray people.”

Hermione snatched it from him and stuck the item on the end of her wand, attached a balloon, muttered the water charm, tied it off, and lobbed it at Harry. It burst open and turned Harry bright blue. 

“You just wasted it!” Atlanta cried.

“It’s still on my wand,” Hermione said, indicating that the item, which looked like a little ring, was indeed still there. “It must change the color of the water to match the balloon.”

“How long will I be blue?” Harry moaned.

Hermione took a pink balloon, muttered a charm turning it roughly the color of Harry’s skin. She lobbed that one at him, turning him skin color from head to toe. 

“This is not funny.”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Draco said, laughing. 

“Just keep filling! Just keep filling!” Lee sung out, dancing off with a basket full of balloons.

* * *

“You are planning something.”

“Tom, remember that conversation we had after I came out of my room last summer?”

“Yes. It was…disturbing. And stupid. Why would you ever say those things to simply test me?”

Atlanta paused in her trek around the outskirts of the Entrance Hall, eyes darting around.

“I needed… I wanted to see if you’d really believe me capable of that and if you’d tell someone. You were so wrapped up in what you were doing, I…I’d been trying…for weeks to find…balance. Then, I…did and you’d gone off the deep end trying to be solid. I…kind of said them to shock you into some sort of action.”

Tom suddenly felt stupid and somewhat livid.

“Dad would be utterly heartbroken if I died. Like worst than he was when Sirius dumped him. And I don’t care if Sirius walks around miserable because Dad ignores him. It’s his own damn fault for thinking Dad was a Death Eater.”

“True. But, why would you use—” 

“I am a teenager, Tom. Sometimes, in my anger, angst, and emotional-overdrive, I do stupid, irrational things. Like say I’m going to sacrifice myself to save Sirius to actually get you to speak to Harry once again.”

“You stupid, silly girl,” Tom grumped. 

“I think something has to happen tonight, something big that will alter Harry in a similar manner as it altered Potter. My death would not do that. Harry and I are not close.”

“What about Regulus? Why’d you throw him into your reasoning?”

“Mostly because of his relationship with the other Atlanta.”

Tom sighed. 

“I also wanted to see if it’d spur you into finding a way to make yourself solid. It did and yet yielded no results in that area,” Atlanta quietly said. “At least I got you to speak with Harry.”

Tom made no noise, but was sure she felt his displeasure. 

“I also told Draco and Hermione…just not the fact you were going to put yourself on a kamikaze mission.”

“You told Harry?”

“I said you thought someone had to die and alluded it was going to be you,” Tom admitted. 

“You’ve all tried to watch me for signs?”

“Yes.”

“Explains why Hermione stalked me the first three weeks we were at school,” Atlanta muttered. “And why Draco remained behind on several trips to Hogsmeade.”

“You do realize you just carried on a one sided, somewhat bizarre conversation, in a public corridor and anyone could have heard you, right?” Tom asked.

Atlanta chuckled. “Oh, Tommy Boy, no one thinks twice when they find me talking to myself these days. Ah, it’s started. Hush. I’ve got work to do.” 

* * *

Harry was no longer skin color an hour later. As the water dried, he returned to normal. 

An hour later, Draco, Hermione, Atlanta, and Harry had filled too many balloons to count and Lee had returned with Ginny, who was behaving as if she was a general waging a war.

She kind of was, actually.

“You three stay here. Those going must remain in the Entrance Hall. I’ve posted Atlanta and Neville downstairs. Once the attack begins, they’ll make sure there’s a path for you three to get out,” Ginny explained. 

“Where will you be?” Harry asked. 

“Outside. Luna and I will be getting transportation,” Ginny replied. “Lee. I leave the battle in your hands. Peeves has been armed and he will be dangerous. Warn everyone to stay out of his way.”

Without a further word, Ginny clattered down the stairs and out the front doors. 

“Dinner’s starting soon,” Lee said. “Everyone outside is going to come in soon. You will likely be hit several times by color balloons as you…go where ever you lot are going. Care to tell me?”

“No,” Harry said. “Sorry.”

Lee shrugged. “Don’t really care. We’re taking Umbridge out. Everyone’s on board except her little squad of yes men. Well, they might have been, but we didn’t approach them.”

“You’ve got Slytherins in on this?”

“Of course. We talked to Ronald,” Lee said, giving Draco a look like he thought Draco was a little dense. “He was on board. He talked to those in his house who he knew would love to see Umbridge run out that door there screaming her head off.”

Lee smirked, tipped an invisible hat to Harry, Draco, and Hermione. The trio exchanged looks and settled in. They had not long to wait before Umbridge appeared in the Entrance Hall to supervise the entrance of the school from outside. Her beady eyes took in the various state of everyone. She shouted at several students who were not in top shape after spending the afternoon in the sun. The squad of yes men were bullying kids left and right. Draco could see the points in the other three houses going down as they deducted for whatever reason. 

“Yooo hooo!” Peeves sung out, appearing over Umbridge’s head. Without further ado, he smashed a watermelon over her head. 

“GO!” several loud voices shouted.

Suddenly, from every single direction, water balloons flew. Mostly at the IS and Umbridge, who without notice had been corralled into the very center of the Entrance Hall. Peeves cackled above her head, smashing fruit after fruit over her. Draco lost track of the items he was smashing in the chaos they had managed to create. It was utterly amazing how much the entire school hated Umbridge that they all took up arms. Draco even saw a few professors picking up balloons and lobbing them into action.

“Let’s go. She’s distracted enough,” Hermione whispered.

“Snape must see us leave,” Harry insisted.

Snape arrived with Blaise Zabini. Zabini looked mildly surprised at the sight of the school attacking Umbridge, who basically gave the entire school detention. Snape appeared not to know if he should appear furious or amused. He did, though, notice Harry, Draco, and Hermione not throwing balloons and working their way towards the door. Atlanta popped up in front of him at this point and said something to him, which made him sneer, eyes darting over to the trio. 

“She’s told him!” Hermione shouted over the noise as they made for the front door.

They managed to get out with only getting hit a few times. As soon as they were outside, they ran through the grounds towards the Forest as fast as they could. The meeting point was Hagrid’s hut, which was where they found Ginny and Luna, the later was petting a threstral while Ginny appeared ill at ease.

“Oh, brilliant,” Draco breathed once he could form words after their mad dash. “They’ll get us there in no time.”

“Yes. We discussed this,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“I forgot.”

“Luna can see them. Can you?” Ginny asked, eyeing Draco.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Draco said, straightening up. He removed his robe, realizing he’d forgotten to change after exams. Hermione had changed, as had Harry. Both were wearing their Muggle clothing, while Draco was the only one in his school uniform. He loosened his tie, chucked it into the pumpkin patch.

“You know, you could have put it in your pocket,” Hermione pointed out.

“Felt better to chuck it away.”

“He’ll need a new one next year anyway. That one is too short for the bean pole,” Harry snickered. 

Draco socked him in the shoulder as rapid footsteps sounded from behind them. Turning, Draco saw Atlanta running towards them easily while Neville struggled to keep up. Both had been hit with multiple colored water balloons. Draco shifted on his feet as they reached them, having a strange feeling about taking Neville along. Hermione had pointed out he’d gone along the first time and came out fine, likely better as Neville’s confidence level had grown leaps and bounds after the debacle at the Ministry. 

“What are you petting?” Atlanta asked, staring at Luna.

“A threstral,” Luna replied, eyeing Atlanta. “Only those who’ve witnessed Death can see them.”

Atlanta looked around. “So, only Ginny, Hermione, and myself cannot see the creatures.”

“Neville?” Draco asked, whirling around.

Neville sheepishly nodded. “My granddad.”

Neville appeared to be waiting for Draco to say who’d he seen die, but the person he’d witnessed die was in fact still alive and teaching Muggle Studies. Or, more likely, she was currently pelting Dolores Umbridge with water balloons. 

“I saw my mum,” Luna offered. “She’s dead.”

Neville turned his attention to Luna, who smiled at him and hopped up onto the back of the thestral. 

“Let’s go,” Harry said, following suit. “Wait, let’s dry off first. Don’t want to fly wet.”

Everyone who was wet, quickly cast drying charms, then Draco helped Ginny and Hermione onto the invisible animals while Neville guided Atlanta, who refused to be aided but kept missing getting her leg over till Neville helped her over her protests. Draco hauled himself quite inelegantly onto the back of the black horse like animal.

“You sure you want to do this?” Harry asked, looking at Ginny, Luna, and Neville.

“We’re in the Muggle Chess Club together,” Neville said quietly. “It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn’t it? And this is the first chance we’ve had to do something real—or was that all just a game or something?”

“No. Of course not,” Harry said. 

“Well, then, we’re coming. I know you don’t want the whole club with you on this, but we’re your friends and we’ve trained for this,” Neville said. “And we’ve all got our reasons for going.” 

“That’s right,” Luna said, smiling happily. 

Harry sighed, looking at Draco with an unsure expression. Draco could understand. Out of anyone who took part in DMC, Neville, Ginny, and Luna were not the three to take with them to take on some Death Eaters. But, they’d gone the first time and all lived to tell the tale and this time they had the advantage: they knew the vision was fake and back up should be in place by now.

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “Once more unto the breach.”

Harry turned his threstral as Hermione stared at him wide eyed.

“When did you read Shakespeare?”

“Uh, never? That’s A-Level stuff.”

“Then how do you know that reference?”

“Telly.” 

“What?” Neville asked, looking around.

“Muggle thing,” Draco said.

“Oh.”

“Well, let’s go. Heavy is the head that wears the crown and all,” Harry went on, smirking at Hermione’s face. “Fine. I read Shakespeare. I didn’t get half of it, but I read it. Then again, I read a lot of things I didn’t understand as a kid. Mostly to fill time in the cupboard. Now, the MINISTRY OF MAGIC IN LONDON!”

Before anyone could ask for an explanation, Harry and his threstral took off.

“Tell them where you wish to go,” Luna advised, then shouted, “TO  THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC IN LONDON!”


	24. Not So Mysterious, Huh?

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. “Wonderwall” was written by Noel Gallagher. “It’s The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” was written by Bill Berry, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Michael Stipe.**

* * *

The ride to the Ministry was fast, much quicker than Draco hoped. Twilight fell swiftly and the Muggle towns began to light up. Darkness had fully fallen by the time they reached the outskirts of London (or what Draco guessed were the outskirts as the lights became more numerous and denser). Draco held on tighter as the city grew denser and denser. The moment the thestrals’ head pointed downward, Draco knew they’d reached their destination.

Last year he hadn’t had to deal with actually being in the thick of things. Now, that he was heading into battle, he really wanted to go home and not face the music. 

Before Draco could tell the thestral to go to Gimmauld Place, the threstral landed softly on the ground as if it were a shadow and not a couple hundred pound (give or take) creature. Draco clutched the animal a moment, gathering himself.

He could do this. He had to do this. 

Draco slid off the back, landing on the pavement with a thump. He was in some unknown part of London (not that hard, as many parts of London were unknown to Draco) and the street was deserted. Draco suppressed a shudder. 

“Where’s the entrance,” Draco inquired, walking up to Harry, who was slowly standing from where he had landed on his rear when he’d fallen off his threstral. 

“It’s that telephone box just up there,” Harry said, pointing at a lackluster maybe red box thing. “It’s seriously creepy when there’s no one on the street. How’d they clear out the Muggles?”

“It’s a business district,” Hermione said, sliding off the creature with grace. “See up there? There are some Muggles still at work, but most have gone home by now.” 

Draco glanced upwards. Sure enough, there were lights on, just no one on the street. 

“Still creepy,” Harry muttered as Atlanta’s threstral silently landed. 

“Umph,” Neville said as he fell off his threstral as Ginny and Luna touched down.

The girls all managed to get off the creatures without falling on their rears.

“Where do we go from here?” Luna asked, looking around as if she’d been let loose in a sweet shop.

“Over here,” Harry said, indicating to the phone box again. Harry made his way over to the battered box, opening the door. “We’ll have to all squish in. Draco, go in last.”

“Of course,” Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. 

Harry entered first, then Atlanta and Ginny, followed by Hermione and Luna. Neville pushed his way in, followed by Draco, who felt as if he should simply crawl on top of everyone in order to fit into the tiny box, which did not get larger when they entered but stayed stubbornly the same size as it was on the outside. 

“This is not magical,” Draco muttered.

“Whoever’s nearest the receiver, dial six- two-four-four-two!” Harry’ somewhat muffled voice called out.

Luna did this, somehow. As the dial whirled back into place a cool female voice sounded inside the box saying, “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Atlanta Lupin…We’re on a…rescue mission,” Harry offered. 

“Thank you,” the cool female voice said. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.”

The noise of something being deposited sounded. Hermione scooped up whatever they were and handed them to Harry over Ginny’s head. Harry snorted.

“Hand them here,” Atlanta ordered. “Never ending pockets.”

The badges jingled again. 

“Visitors to the Ministry are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.” 

“Yes, yes, alright,” Harry agreed loudly, rubbing his forehead. 

The floor shuddered suddenly and moved downward. Draco watched as the city street vanished, slowly sliding out of sight to the sound of a grinding lift. 

As the former telephone box began to slow, a chink of soft golden light filtered in through the bottom, lighting up their feet. 

“Get ready. You know, in case they’re there,” Harry suggested. 

Draco turned himself and slid his wand out. Figured he was right by the door, would be first out into the open, and was going in blind. He wasn’t able to see anyone through the glass of the door, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t there. Draco peered out, taking in the dim light and empty fireplaces lining the walls. He’d never seen the Atrium so dead in his whole life.

The place was definitely closed for business, more so than the Muggle street.

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” the cool voice chimed as the doors burst open and they all fell out and on top of one another.

“Well, that wasn’t noticeable,” Draco muttered into the floor where his face was plastered.

“It was a majestic entrance,” Harry insisted, rolling easily to his feet. He had his wand out, but didn’t look ready to use it anytime soon. 

The lift behind them shut and clanged upward, the only noise in the entire place was the grinding noise and the flowing water in the golden fountain. Draco had never really paid much attention to it before, but it was farcical. Magical Brethren indeed. 

“Well, let’s go,” Harry said, starting across towards the lifts that would take them to the various floors of the Ministry. 

They all fell into single file as they walked across the black tile towards the lift. The Ministry, Draco decided, was foreboding without anyone in it. Harry opened the golden gates and entered first, the others all filing in behind him. Draco took a deep breath and followed, closing the gate behind him. Harry punched the button for the Department of Mysteries. The lift descended noisily, jangling and rattling as if it was going to fall apart.

“Not going to be stealth are ya?” Atlanta joked.

“I didn’t realize they were this noisy,” Harry muttered.

“Well, they aren’t when the building is full of people,” Hermione pointed out. “There’s activity that drowns out the noise.”

The lift finally clattered to a stop and the cool female voice said, “Department of Mysteries” as the doors slid open. Draco opened the gate and the group trooped out, staring at the never ending corridor lit by floating torches. 

“This way,” Harry said. “And stick close. No wandering off.”

Luna nodded, looking around with her mouth slightly open as if she simply could not believe her eyes. Harry started off down the corridor towards a black door. Atlanta sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of it. Harry stopped at the door and turned to the group.

“This is the last time I’ll ask: do you want to remain here? You don’t have to come with me.”

“Yeah, we do,” Neville said, looking at Atlanta a little wearily. Granted, Atlanta looked as if she was seeing nirvana or something, so she was a little freaky. 

“We’re coming with you,” Ginny stated. 

Harry sighed. “There are adults in here, ones on our side. I don’t know where they are, but they are hidden throughout the department. They know we’re coming and are waiting to defend us if, uh, things go wrong.”

Neville swallowed loudly.

“Sirius Black is one of them, along with his younger…” Hermione trailed off, forgetting who Regulus was supposed to actually be.

“Brother,” Harry decided. 

“He’s got a younger brother?” Ginny asked, looking confused.

“I thought he was dead?” Neville asked. “Wasn’t he a Death Eater?”

“It’s a long story,” Harry sighed. “But Regulus looks a lot like Sirius only younger.”

“And thinner,” Draco added.

“And with straight hair,” Hermione added. “He’s also…quite good looking.” 

Harry gave Hermione a strange look before looking back at the group. “There’s also an Auror, Tonks. She usually has pink hair. It’s likely if she sees you, she’ll make it pink so you know its her. And I think, uh, Ginny, your older brother.”

“George?”

“No. Bill?”

“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. He was doing something with Mum and Dad that is all hush-hush, made Percy livid, and made him go all git-like.”

“Did he move out?” Draco asked.

Ginny looked at Draco as if he were mad. “Well, yeah, he did. But, not because of that. He moved in with Oliver.” 

“Oh,” Draco said, nodding. Ginny was still staring at him, so he added, “I was just wondering. I knew you and Ronald weren’t too pleased with him for some reason.” 

“Let’s go,” Harry sighed, turning and putting his hand on the door knob. He tensed up for a moment and stopped breathing. While still not breathing, he turned the knob and pushed the door. It opened smoothly. Letting out the air he was holding, Harry swiftly marched forward. Hermione took a fortifying breath and followed behind. Draco motioned for the other four to enter before him. Upon entering, Draco looked around the large room. Like the hallway, everything was a shiny black and dimly lit. Also, everything in the circular room looked identical and there were no markings on the doors so they’d be able to tell them apart.

“Someone shut the door,” Harry muttered.

Draco shut the door and the room began to spin, or at least Draco thought that was what was happening. The only movement in the room was the shivering blue flames that lit the torches that lined the walls between the doors. The flames evened out and the room stilled. Harry dithered for a moment before he marched forward towards one of the doors. Hermione grabbed his arm.

“Are you sure? Did it do this before?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Harry said. “In my dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into this room, then through another door that kind of glitters.”

“And when you came here…”

“Uh…it was daytime. It looked very different,” Harry admitted.

“Of course,” Hermione muttered. “We’ll try doors and mark the ones we’ve tried as wrong ones. Let’s go.”

Harry marched straight to the door facing him, raised his wand, and threw it open. The room revealed was brighter than the room they were in, lit with normal lighting and not the glittering, shimmering ones Harry had described. Draco looked over everyone’s head into the room and frowned at the tank of deep-green water, big enough for all of them to go for a swim. There were a number of strange looking pearly white objects drifting around lazily.

“What are those?” Hermione muttered.

“Dunno,” Harry said, looking at her strangely.

“Are they fish?”

“Aquavirius maggots!” Luna excitedly cried. “Dad said the Ministry were breeding—” 

“Wrong, they are brains,” Regulus offered, appearing out of the shadows. “And this is the wrong room. Hello, I’m Regulus.”

He waved, yet did not try to smile. Ginny’s jaw dropped and she stared at Hermione, who was pink and acting strange once more. Luna looked down trodden and seemed not to notice Regulus’ handsome face as the other two clearly had. Draco took a good look at Regulus, who was dressed in dark Muggle clothing. Unlike most wizards, he clearly didn’t look out of place in the items, as Harry didn’t give him a strange look. He wasn’t _that_ good looking. Though, he did have rather great hair. Maybe Draco ought to care about his hair more?

“Brains?” Harry asked, tapping Ginny’s jaw to close it. Ginny snapped her mouth shut, but continued to stare at Regulus, who didn’t seem to notice the fact he’d rendered Ginny mute and unmoving.  

“Yes, I see it now,” Hermione breathed, grabbing onto Draco’s arm. “What are they doing with them?”

Regulus shrugged, which looked all sort of wrong. 

“Let’s move on. Guess we’ll meet various members as we try to find the door,” Harry grumbled. 

“You don’t know?” Regulus asked, looking a little panicked.

“No. It looks different at night and in my dreams I always just know.”

Regulus stared at the group of teenagers with a look of pure helplessness. Ginny shook her head. 

“Let’s try another door. We’ll get there. At least this way we’ll meet our support,” Hermione reasoned, dragging Draco out of the room. “Bye, Regulus!”

“Good evening,” Regulus said, looking a little morose. 

The others followed. Harry held the door and Hermione marked it with a huge glittering, fiery X. Harry shut the door and the walls began to move again. The X remained and blurred till the walls came to a stop. 

“Brilliant,” Neville breathed. 

Harry nodded, heading for the unmarked door that was now in front of him. The door was firmly locked. Harry instantly gave up and moved to the door on his right. That door was also firmly locked. Harry sighed, moving yet again to the right. 

“What if one of those is the right room?” Neville asked.

“Won’t be,” Ginny reasoned. “The Death Eaters want Harry to find them. They’re not going to lock him out.”

“Here, here,” Atlanta muttered as Harry opened another door and let out a whoop.

“This is it!”

Draco gasped, as it was a glittering, sparkling, beautiful room. The group slowly wandered into the brilliant glare of what appeared to be clocks. The clocks were on every surface and in various sizes and types. The whole room was filling with a relentless ticking the further they walked in and Draco had the urge to march to the beat of the ticking clocks.

“This way!” Harry urged, almost running off and darting between a narrow space between a line of desks. 

“Oh, look…” Ginny breathed, pointing at the source of light for the room, which was a huge bell jar. 

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged. The bird caught a draft in the jar (there seemed to be a wind moving the sparking light around) and rose to the top before falling once more, aging before their eyes. As it fell, it grew younger and younger. By the time it landed at the bottom, it was an egg once more. 

“Let’s go!” Harry shouted.

“But…” Ginny trailed off as Neville pushed her to get her moving once more.

“It’s time,” Hermione whispered. “Brilliant.”

Draco grabbed her hand when she showed signs of stopping to linger. 

“Wands ready,” Harry ordered, his hand on the knob of yet another door. 

“Good luck!” someone whispered.

“Thanks, Tonks,” Harry whispered back.

“Huh?” Neville asked, looking around. 

Tonks appeared, pink haired, and waved a little. She put her fingers to her lips and backed up into the darkness again. She knocked something over, but managed to catch whatever before it hit the ground. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. 

Harry opened the door and led them into yet another room. 

This room had high ceilings and was filled with nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered duly in the light issuing from candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. The flames were burning blue, casting the room in an eerily light and for some reason making the room abnormally cold. 

Harry edged forward then came to a stop.

“Where are they?” Hermione whispered. “What row?”

“Ninety-seven,” Harry returned. 

They were at row 53 per the shimmering silver numbers at the end of the shelves. 

“Let’s try right,” Hermione suggested. She headed that way, then nodded. 

“Keep your wands up and at the ready,” Harry advised.

They crept forward, most of the group looking around in awe at the glittering orbs. 

“What are the little papers?” Ginny asked.

“Names,” Draco replied. “These are all prophecies. The names of who they are about are on the papers.”

“That’s…seriously?” Ginny asked, looking utterly bewildered. “I didn’t really believe it when Harry said it earlier…”

“You do now?”

“I thought Divination was a joke,” Ginny muttered. 

“Real Seers are rare,” Luna offered.

Ginny gave her a look then looked around the room once more. The room was so large and full, it made it seem as if real Seers weren’t that rare.

“Ninety-seven!” whispered Hermione, grabbing Harry by the back of the shirt. 

Harry jolted to a stop while the others gathered around, staring down the long alley of dusty globes. There was nobody visable.

“Where are they?” Neville whispered.

“In the shadows,” Draco replied lowly. 

“Remember our roles, keep your wands ready. Come on,” Harry whispered, pressing his lips together and marching down the aisle. He came to a stop at a junction between shelves and paused, looking around. He put a huge frown on his face and said loudly, “She’s not here.”

“Was she supposed to be here?” Hermione asked just as loudly. 

Draco instantly plastered a concerned expression on his face as he stepped into the dim light. He darted his eyes around as Harry ran down the aisle some more, pretending to look for Narcissa. 

“Harry?” Hermione called, coming to rest next to the shelf. She was on her tip toes to be able to read the yellowing paper.

“What?” Harry responded, jogging back to the group. 

“Look,” Hermione whispered, pointing. 

“What?” Harry asked again, getting on his tip toes. Draco resisted the urge to go over and pick Harry up so he could see properly. “What?”

“That’s your name,” Hermione said. 

“I can see that, Hermione,” Harry retorted.

“Well, I’m taller than you now, so I thought you—”

“YOU ARE!” Harry shouted, falling back to his heels and staring at Hermione. “Oh, god. You are.”

“Harry!” Draco snapped. “Priorities!” 

“But…even Ginny’s taller than me! Why won’t I grow?”

“HARRY!” Draco shouted. “WHERE IS MY MOTHER!?”

Harry sheepishly made a face at Draco and turned his attention back to the fake orb.

“She’s not here,” Draco said. “Where is she?”

Neville patted Draco on the back, frowning in a good imitation of worry. Ginny, meanwhile, headed over to the shelf and got on her tip toes to read the paper.

“It’s got your name and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” she announced.

“Does it really say that?” Atlanta inquired, coming to stand behind the short trio. She easily read the paper on the shelf without needing to get on her tiptoes. “It does!” Atlanta reached out to take the globe and stopped her hand mere inches from the orb and propelled herself backwards. Draco caught her before she crashed into the opposite shelf (which from the looks of things had been rammed into a few times, as it was wrecked and free of orbs). “Uh, why can’t I touch it?” 

Harry shrugged. 

“Maybe Harry can only touch it?” Hermione suggested. “It’s got his name on it.” 

Harry got onto his tip toes, bracing himself with both hands gripping the shelf, and peered at the shelf. Centuries passed before Harry reached out, grabbed the orb, and stared at it. He landed back on his heels and frowned at the glass globe, using his sleeve to brush the dust off. 

“Very good,” a cold, drawling voice said behind them. “Now turn around, nice and slow, and give that to me.” 

Draco’s blood froze. He’d not heard that voice in over a year and hearing it now, in this place, was just plain horrifying— mostly because Draco knew whose bidding his father was here doing. Draco turned around as black shapes emerged out of thin air. Ginny gasped, ramming into Draco from the other direction. Draco looked back over his shoulder and noticed they were closed in on the other side as well. A dozen wand-tips lit up, all pointing in their direction and highlighting the eyes showing through the slits in the hoods the Death Eaters all wore. 

Draco shuddered at the memory of being presented with those robes. Bellatrix had been salivating while his mother had looked scared out of her mind. 

Ginny grabbed his elbow and squeezed. It was comforting, even if she didn’t exactly know why he was shuddering. 

“To me, Potter,” repeated Lucius Malfoy’s drawling voice. He held out his hand, palm up. 

Harry took a few steps backwards, his eyes darting around. He was doing a great job at looking cornered.

“To me.”

“Where’s Aunt Narcissa?”

Several Death Eaters laughed. 

“The Dark Lord always knows!” cried out a harsh female voice. 

Draco shivered. He knew that voice as well. 

“Always,” Lucius agreed, keeping his eyes firmly on Harry. “Now, give it the prophecy to me, Potter.”

“I want to know where she is!” Harry shouted.

“ _I want to know where she is_ ,” mimicked Bellatrix Lastrange. 

The Death Eaters all laughed. Draco began to edge towards Harry’s side, taking Ginny along with him. The others followed suit till they were all tightly standing together, wands out to defend themselves.  

“I know you have her!” Harry bellowed, backing into Atlanta. Draco saw out of the corner of his eyes, Harry slipped her the orb.

“ _I know she’s here!”_ Bellatrix mimicked again, stepping up to stand besides Lucius in the light.

“I want to know where she is!”

“ _I wanna know where she is_ ,” Bellatrix mocked, using a high pitch baby voice. 

Harry looked around wildly, wand held firmly while his other hand was behind his back. 

“Aw, wittle baby woke up fwightened and fot what it dweamed was twoo,” Bellatrix cooed in a horrible voice that brought back unspeakable nightmares for Draco. Draco quivered, feeling as if he was back to the world he’d left behind.  

Hermione squeezed his hand, warmth filling him. He opened his eyes and stared down the Death Eaters before him. 

He could do this.

Atlanta whispered something to Harry and Harry nodded. He turned and whispered out of the side of his mouth, “Don’t do anything till I tell you.”

The raucous screams of laughter from the woman slowly died down. 

“Oh, look. He’s giving orders to the others like he’s their leader,” she cackled.

“Of course. You don’t know Potter as I do, Bellatrix,” Lucius drawled.

Neville gasped behind Draco and jerked forward. 

“He has a great weakness for heroics and pollutes the minds of others to follow him,” Lucuis stated. “The Dark Lords knows and understands this.”

“Of course. He turned your own son against the Dark Lord,” Bellatrix sneered, eyes landing on Draco. “Clouded my sister’s mind, you did. Turned her to the—”

“Bellatrix,” Lucius snapped.

“I want to know where she is!” Harry bellowed, in an attempt to get back on topic. 

“She’s where she calls home,” Lucius snapped, stomping on Bellatrix’s foot before she could say anything else. Bellatrix hissed like an angry cat. Lucius gave her a look that stated clearly to back off. Lucius looked back at Harry. “Give me the prophecy. Now. Potter.”

Harry shook his head. 

“I don’t believe you. Where is she?” Harry demanded.

Lucius sighed. “Potter, it is time you learned the difference between reality and dreams. Give me the ball or we start using wands.”

Harry glanced at Atlanta, whose hand had vanished into her pocket. Harry winked and Atlanta took a few steps forward till she was in front of Harry.

“Oh, look. The bastard wolf is going to guard him,” Bellatrix cooed. “I can kill her. She’s not important.”

“NO!” Neville shouted as Lucius grabbed Bellatrix’s wrist and pointed her wand at the ground. The spell she’d let loose hit the ground and fizzed out, casting everyone in a green light. 

Ginny gasped.

Harry smirked. “You don’t want to attack us.”

Bellatrix hissed. 

Atlanta began to hum. 

Which was strange, as she’d stopped doing that after her run in with 1940s Riddle. 

“Hand over the prophecy. No one needs to be hurt tonight,” Lucius said cooly. 

Harry chuckled. “Sure. That’ll happen. So, I’ll hand this odd snow globe over and just waltz out the front door.”

“Waltzing is so last year, Harry. Skipping is the new waltz,” Atlanta offered, her Southern accent more prominent. She smiled a smile Draco never wanted aimed at him and sung out, “ _Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna through it back to you-u-u-u-u-u-u-u_.”

The Death Eaters all stumbled backwards as if something hit them in the chest. 

“Enough! _Accio Proph—_ ” one of the Death Eaters started, struggling upright. 

Harry shot up a shield charm before the Death Eater even finished the spell. Atlanta moved even further in front and Harry moved into the center of the group. 

“Oh, the little bitty baby knows how to play,” Bellatrix cooed in a sing song voice. She snorted. “Very well then…”

“I TOLD YOU NO!” Lucius roared and Bellatrix went flying backwards. “If you smash it—” 

Bellatrix struggled to get up as Harry whispered, “Smash the balls on my mark.”

Atlanta sung, “ _By now you should somehow figured out what you gotta doooooo,”_ and sent the Death Eaters stumbling once more.

Harry nodded, looking more certain, glanced at Hermione, and mimicked something to her. She nodded, pulling something out of her pocket. While the Death Eaters were all arguing amongst themselves about shooting spells, Hermione transfigured something into a glass globe and handed it to Harry. Harry began to toss it up and down. This made the Death Eaters fall silent. Harry took a few steps forward, standing shoulder to elbow with Atlanta. 

“So, what does Voldemort want with a dusty snow globe? Does he collect them like a girl?” Harry asked, still tossing the glass globe up and down. 

Several Death Eaters hissed. Ginny glared at Harry out of the corner of her eye. 

“You dare speak his name?” Bellatrix shirked. 

“Did you miss that I called him a girl?” Harry asked, catching the globe and looking at it. 

“Shut your mouth!”

“Naw, I think I want to talk about Voldemort.” 

“You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you half blood—” 

Whatever else Bellatrix was going to say was cut off by a sassy Harry Potter.

“Did you know he’s a half blood? Your mate Voldemort has been lying to you if he’s telling you he’s a pureblood. His father was a Muggle. Has he been telling lies? He shouldn’t be lying. That’s just plain rude,” Harry snarked.

“ _STUPEF—_ ” 

Bellatrix failed to finish her spell as she was knocked off her feet by whatever spell Lucius sent at her. The two spells deflected and hit a shelf to the left of their group, sending bits and pieces of wood and glass all over. Atlanta jumped out of the way of one larger of the pieces that smashed at her feet. It must have been one of the globes as pearly figures floated into the air, their voices too quiet for anyone to hear. They unfurled for a moment before vanishing.

“DO NOT ATTACK WHEN HE IS HOLDING THE PROPHECY!”

Bellatrix sputtered about how Harry had ruined Voldemort by speaking his name and telling lies about the Wise Dark One, while Lucius berated her for trying to shoot spells at Harry. 

“So, what’s special about this glass globe, a prophecy you say?” Harry asked, drawing their attention back to him. 

“Don’t play games, Potter.”

“Not playing games. I’m stupid,” Harry offered, tossing the globe again. 

“Can this be? Boy Wonder doesn’t know he was chosen?”

“Chosen for what?” Harry innocently asked. 

The Death Eaters laughed.

“You’ve never wondered why the Dark Lord chose you?” Lucius asked as the laughter died down. 

“Nope. Totally stupid. Never wondered once,” Harry chirped, smiling mockingly at Lucius. “He picked me because of this snow globe?”

“Prophecy,” Lucius gritted out, his eyes following the globe as Harry lobbed it into the air. 

“Let me guess, someone made a prophecy about me and Marv,” Harry pretended to guess, as he caught the ball and held onto it. “Well, isn’t that just cool.”

“Cool?” Lucius echoed, looking bewildered. 

“Yup. Atlanta?”

“Do you want me to define cool? I’m sure Hermione the Walking Dictionary would be better for that job.”

“No. I don’t need a definition, though I’m sure Hermione would be the person to ask if I wanted a term defined. No, I’m ready to go.”

“Jolly good.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Bellatrix shirked.

Atlanta stepped forward, wand out and wearing that creepy smirk. She cocked her head to the side. Something in her expression must have reminded the Death Eaters of their wonderful leader, as they took a step backwards as Atlanta raised her right hand, which Draco now noticed was clenched around something. 

“ _It’s the end of the world as we know it_ ,” Atlanta sang out right before opening up her hand and throwing whatever was in it. 

“NOW!” Harry shouted at the same time. 

“REDUCTOR!” Draco bellowed pointing his wand at the shelf to his left at the same time as five other people did the same. 

The curses all met their mark and the world exploded in wood and glass. The towering shelves began to crack, which made more glass balls tumble off the shelves and smash, clearing their path to freedom.

“RUN!” Harry shouted.

Draco glanced at the Death Eaters, who were all covered in some sort of string like substance and fighting to get it off at the same time as they were trying to protect themselves from the shards of glass and wood. 

Draco ran. 


	25. Outwitting Death Eaters

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

Draco ran like he’d never run before. His long legs helped him be in the lead, which he liked and didn’t like for reasons. Atlanta was next to him, shooting off Reductor curses along with him at the shelves. 

“Go to find Regulus and take Harry,” Atlanta ordered as they reached the door. “I’ll take Ginny and Luna.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Draco asked as the others caught up. Well, except Hermione and Neville.

“It’s brilliant,” Atlanta said, pushing Draco through the door. 

He stumbled in and tripped over his own feet (embarrassingly) and landed flat on his face. By the time he picked himself up off the floor, Hermione slammed the door and shouted, “ _Colloportus!_ ”

“Why’d you do that?” Harry asked as the door sealed itself with a squishing noise. “The others didn’t come through.”

“Atlanta’s taking them a different way,” Draco filled in. 

“Get going,” Tonk urged, appearing out of nowhere. “The door won’t hold. I’ll go through after the Death Eaters and track the girls. Make sure they get out. Does Atlanta know what she’s doing?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Get going,” Tonks said as the Death Eater’s voices sounded louder on the other side. 

Hermione grabbed Harry and Draco and hurried off away. They ran passed the bell-jar and the clock room. Hermione suggested they upturn the desks to make it harder for the Death Eater following. Harry took a little too much pleasure in the destruction of Ministry property.  

* * *

“Atlanta, what is your plan?”

“My plan?”

“Yes, just because you admitted you’re no longer suicidal and going to die in place Sirius because it makes no logical sense, doesn’t mean you have no plan, so what is your plan?”

Tom felt dizzy as Atlanta ran through darker than night corridors, seemingly knowing which way to go. He could withdraw from her eyes, but refused as he was on the look out for things she might miss. 

“I plan to set a trap for Voldemort. He knows I’m here. I have to keep him occupied till Dumbledore’s available to duel.”

“How?”

“His song,” Atlanta said, then spun around. “GET DOWN! They’re here!”

Behind him, Tom heard the others all clatter downwards. Neville hit something and all hell broke loose.

* * *

“Where’s Neville?” Draco asked as they slammed the door on the Magical Door Room. 

“With the others. Atlanta grabbed him and shoved me through the door,” Hermione said. “The door with the X, that’s where Regulus is located. He’ll tell us where to take the Death Eaters for the final show down.”

The three darted across the room towards the door with the fiery X. Harry ripped the door open and they piled into the room, slamming the door behind them. As they stumbled away from the door, Draco heard Regulus seal it with the same spell Hermione had used earlier. 

“Where do you want Harry to carrell the Death Eaters?” Hermione asked. 

Regulus looked regretful as he said, “The Death Chamber. It’s the only room large enough to get them—”

“No! We can’t go in that room!” Harry shouted, stomping his foot. “That’s the room Sirius dies in! And we don’t know how!”

Hermione put her hand on Harry’s arm. “He might still die tonight, no matter what room we’re in.”

Harry pressed his lips together and looked livid. “There were two locked doors. We came across two locked doors.”

“One is always locked as you well know,” Regulus said softly. “We locked the other door so you wouldn’t go in there before we needed you in there. There is another way to get there. The Death Eaters will find you here, Hermione marked the door.”

Harry made fists and looked furious. 

“Harry, go off that way,” Regulus instructed, motioning to the open door. “There’s a long hallway. The door to the Death Chamber is open. We’ll thin the crowd out for your further.”

Harry appeared as if he wasn’t going to leave, but turned and ran off, slamming the door behind him. 

“Was it necessary—” Draco started.

“Yes,” Regulus cut off. “It was. I told Sirius. Before we left. Hopefully he’ll be more careful. Tonks couldn’t figure out any other room large enough to gather the Death Eaters and ourselves with enough room to fight. We’re going to destroy enough of this department using the rooms we’ve gone through already. You smashed up the Time Room, didn’t you?”

“Just the desks,” Hermione said. “We tipped them as we ran past.”

“Harry blew a few up.” 

Regulus nodded, clutching his wand as the noise on the other side grew louder. Draco sucked in a breath.

“What do you want us to do?” Hermione quietly asked. 

“Do as Harry trained you to do: defend yourselves. Just, stay away from the brains. Don’t let them touch you,” Regulus advised. “And to start, hide.” 

The three of them spread out and hid in various corners of the darkened room. Hermione was under a desk, Regulus was behind the Brain Aquarium, and Draco hid behind a bookshelf. The door burst open and three Death Eaters fell into the room. They were all still hooded, but Draco knew the body shapes: Nott, Dolohov, and Jugson.

“They’re in here, aren’t they?” Jugson asked, wand wildly waving around. “That singing chit’s not here, is she?”

“No. She’s somewhere behind us,” Dolohov replied. 

Dolohov suddenly flew up into the air, suspended by his ankle. He shouted out in surprise, then horror as he flew forward and into the case of brains. 

Hermione leapt up and shot off Body Bind curses. Draco jumped into action doing the same. Both landed their curses on their intended victims. Draco stared down at Nott, whose eyes were furious behind his mask. 

“That was too easy,” Draco observed. 

“Correct,” Regulus said, appearing seemingly out of thin air. 

“I thought you said stay away from the brains,” Draco drawled.

“I did,” Regulus said, silently moving the brains back into a large jar filled with liquid. “However, he can have as many brains on him as possible.”

Dolohov screamed where he was on the floor, a brain latched onto his arm. Regulus waved his wand and Dolohov fell silent. Hermione stared, looking torn between looking satisfied and horrified. Regulus allowed Dolohov to struggle a few more minutes with the freaky brain thing before he stunned him, then looking a bit morose, cast a spell that caused the brain to stop moving. 

“What did you do?”

“Took away its air supply,” Regulus replied, yanking the brain off Dolohov. He threw it into the jar with the others and it began to move around once more. “It’s fine.”

“I wasn’t that worried about the brain,” Hermione admitted. “Now what?”

“We head to the Death Chamber. Sirius and Bill are there. Tonks went after the girls, right?”

“Yes, she did. Who else is here?”

“Lupin is in one of the other rooms. One I guess you didn’t go through,” Regulus said, opening the door Harry had slammed earlier. 

“Are you going to let us fight?”

“Of course I am,” Regulus said. “I wish someone had taught me how to fight when I was your age. You’re going to have to face this stuff sooner rather than later.”

Draco nodded. “Best be prepared.”

Hermione gripped her wand tightly. 

“But, once the other Order members show up, make yourselves scare, okay?”

“Will do,” they both agreed. 

They could hear the fight in the Death Chamber before they actually reached it. Sirius and Bill were shouting, someone else was cackling, and the room was alight with different colored spells. The three ran the rest of the way to the opened door. Regulus instantly threw himself into a duel, while Draco grabbed onto Hermione so they could figure out where they could best be of aid. 

Before either could move, though, the doors on the other side of the Chamber burst open and a furious Albus Dumbledore appeared with several Order members.

“Luna, Ginny, and Neville aren’t here,” Hermione noted.

“Harry’s with Sirius, there.”

“I think they’ll be okay. We need to find the others.”

“Wouldn’t they be with Tonks?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, hurrying out the door and back down the hallway. “While I do not doubt Tonk’s or Atlanta’s skills, Luna, Neville, and Ginny might not be of much use in a fight.”

Draco nodded, hurrying along. They made it back to the Door Chamber. Hermione slammed the door, then opened one at random, shouting into it. When no one replied, she slammed it shut, waited for the room to spin, then tried again. This time, she heard something back. 

“We’re in here!”

Draco and Hermione hurried into the room, which was filled with huge planets that were moving around a model of the sun. Draco stared, wondering what this could possibly be for before he tripped over Luna, who was on the floor. 

“I think she busted her ankle,” Ginny supplied, holding her hand to her head. “I got hit in the head by Saturn.”

The rings around that planet were going the wrong way. 

“Yes. That happened,” Luna conceded. “Since we were both down for the count, Tonks suggested we remain here whilst she went after Atlanta.”

“Where’s Neville?” Draco asked.

“Hereb.” 

Draco turned to see Neville stumble into the room.

“Jub checkbing sombing,” he mumbled, holding his nose, which was free flowing red.

“What happened?”

“Desk to the nose,” Ginny offered. “Or a door. We weren’t really sure. It happened in a dark room with no floor.”

“It was lovely,” Luna sighed. 

“Draco, lift Luna up. We’ll see if we can find someone. Dumbledore likely brought more people with him than just those who appeared with him in the Death Chamber,” Hermione said. “Ginny, can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said, standing then swaying. Hermione grabbed her arm and flung it over her shoulder. 

Draco lifted Luna carefully, while Neville went out front with his wand, though Draco wasn’t sure what spells he’d be able to cast not being able to speak properly. 

They headed back into the room with the doors. After a few tries they found the door that lead to the corridor that led to the lift to the Atrium. However, before they made it too far, they discovered stunned Tonk spread eagle on the floor.

Hermione dropped Ginny and hurried over to Tonks. Before she had a chance to revive her, Draco heard a cackle that made his blood run cold. 

“Hide. Bellatrix is coming.”

Ginny stumbled to the side, opening a door that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. They all went in, Hermione and Neville dragging Tonks. No sooner were they in the room, Bellatrix streaked past. There were foot steps behind her and Harry followed shortly after. Hermione and Draco exchanged looks. 

“They’re going to the Atrium,” Hermione stated.

“Then, Voldemort is on his way.”

Behind them, there were two sharp intakes of breath.

“Do you think Sirius died?” Hermione asked in a small voice.

Before Draco had a chance to answer, Sirius came running into the hall shouting for Harry.

Draco dove out of the room.

“Draco! Have you seen Harry?” Sirius asked, looking slightly crazed and missing most of his hair. “Bellatrix hit me with something.”

“Clearly,” Draco said. “But what?”

“Stunner or something. Remus woke me up when Harry took off like he thought I was dead, which I get. I was supposed to die. But, I’m not dead!” Sirius exclaimed. 

“He went that way,” Draco indicated, pointing down the hall. “Like the plan happened to be. Voldemort must be seen in a public forum.” 

“Sirius,” came a stern voice from behind. 

Sirius froze and slowly turned around. 

“I told you not to leave,” Dumbledore said, gliding forward. 

“Harry—” 

“Will be fine,” Dumbledore stated, eyes darting to Draco. He must have seen he was right, as he looked back at Sirius. “If you could, please gather up the children and take them back to Hogwarts.”

“How?” Sirius asked.

“With this,” Dumbledore replied, extending a roll of parchment. 

“We’re all here. Well, except Atlanta and Harry,” Hermione said, slowly stepping out of the room. “Tonks is stunned.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I will retrieve Atlanta and Harry. Sirius, now. This will take you to Poppy. You need her care as do several others.”

“He’s right,” Hermione said, tugging on Sirius’s sleeve. “Luna broke her ankle, Neville’s nose won’t stop bleeding, and Ginny took a few rings to the head in the planet room.” 

“And most of your hair is missing for some reason,” Draco informed his cousin. 

Sirius looked alarmed, hand flying to his partly bald head. He let out a rather unmanly sheik. 

“Sirius,” Dumbledore repeated, extending what looked the parchment. 

Sirius sighed, took the parchment roll, then grabbed onto Draco, who seized Hermione, who gripped Neville, who clutched onto Luna, who grabbed Ginny, who gripped Tonk’s ankle just before the portkey took them back to Hogwarts. 


	26. I'm Not Your Ghost Anymore

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. “Shattered” by Trading Yesterday**

* * *

Harry hated Voldemort. Loathed everything about him: his height (tall), his weight (skeleton thin), his stupid hooded cloak (black, of course), his snake like face (ugly), and especially those stupid red slit eyes he sported. Abhorrence coursed through Harry at lightening speed. Everything that was wrong in Harry’s life was Voldemort’s fault. If he just…

What? Loved bunnies? 

Who was Harry kidding? Bunnies were terrifying. Voldemort would love bunnies if he knew how much Harry feared them just to spite Harry. 

And that was just the thing. Harry knew he ought to fear Voldemort on some level, yet he didn’t. He never had. Bunnies terrified him, but not Voldemort. What Harry did feel (besides hate) was pity. Voldemort could have been great, could have been a very productive member of society if he’d made a few different choices along the path of life.

“Why’d you have to be evil?” Harry stupidly asked the most feared and diabolical wizard of the century. 

And Harry could make this claim, as he’d been told stories about the other Dark Lord…Grindiewall or something weird like that. He was power hungry, mean, and kind of like Hitler, but he wasn’t tearing his soul apart in order to not die. It was just…stupid. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the most diabolical wizard. Selfish. Stupid. Power hungry. Stuff like that. 

“I am not evil, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said placidly as if they were simply having tea instead of Harry sitting dumbly at the end of Voldemort’s wand yet again. 

Harry knew he ought to be scared to death, but this was the third time (or maybe four) he’d been here and he was still not dead. A little worse for wear, but defiantly not dead. 

“Sure. I bet Ghandi tore his soul apart too for kicks,” Harry snorted.

Voldemort’s head tilted to the side. If he could, Harry knew the guy would be looking confused. Snakes, though, were not known for their facial expressions. 

“He died,” Voldemort stated. 

“Yes.”

“He was a Muggle.”

“So? You saying Muggles can’t tear their souls apart? I’m sure they do all the time,” Harry assured Voldemort. “There are theses things known as serial killers.”

“Silence!” Voldemort hissed, pressing the tip of his wand into Harry’s chest. Harry felt the spell descend upon him instantly and made a face to show his displeasure. “I can see in your worthless mind what you told Bella was true. The prophecy is lost. What of Calliope?”

Harry felt a pressure in his mind and threw the image of Bellatrix Black stabbing Atlanta in the side in her haste to withdraw upon Dumbledore’s appearance. 

That had not had happened. Bellatrix had thrown some sort of curse at Sirius, cackled, Sirius failed to move, and she ran out of the room doing some more of that evil cackling. 

But, hey, Harry had to get his jollies somehow.

Voldemort hissed in anger and the pressure of his wand tip vanished from Harry’s chest as Bellatrix wailed somewhere behind him. Harry tried to close up his mind against the surge of rage from Voldemort, but failed. Evidently close proximity to Voldemort rendered his shields useless. 

Not that they were very good shields as Snape had given up on him when Harry had gotten a little nosey. 

Suddenly the pain lessened. Harry cracked his eyes open to find Voldemort standing in front of him, his wand pointed at the ground. As if feeling Harry’s stare, Voldemort rolled his neck in a snake like manner and met Harry’s gaze. Harry felt a wave of disgust, grief, anxiousness, and odd fondness flood through, making him dizzy. 

Voldemort sighed deeply, his wand still pointed at the ground. He looked tired.

“Months of preparations, months of effort, and it is all thwarted by Harry Potter. Again.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologized. 

Voldemort gave him chiding look. 

“Okay, you’re right. I’m not sorry. Why would I be sorry for stopping your diabolical plans for world domination?”

Voldemort sighed. 

This was bizarre on too many levels. 

Did Voldemort take a chill pill before leaving tonight? 

“Is she really dead?” Voldemort inquired.

Before Harry could answer the lift dinged open on the other side of the room. Voldemort turned around, his robes swishing out around and his wand held out before him. Harry peered around Voldemort to see the lift was empty. Voldemort slowly turned, taking in the entire Atrium. 

“Who is here?” he demanded.

“Yesterday I died,” came the reply from the lift. 

Harry snapped his eyes back in that direction to see a child standing in the center of the lift. A familiar child. She was young, maybe around eleven. She had long, curly, black hair, and was wearing a Hogwarts uniform. 

“Tomorrow’s bleeding,” she went on, then started singing. “ _Fall into your sunlight. The future’s open wide, beyond believing, to know why, hope dies_.” 

Voldemort ceased moving, wand dropping to his side. 

“ _Losing what was found, a world so hallow, suspended in a compromise. The silence of the sound, is soon to follow, somehow, sundown.”_

“What is this?” Voldemort hissed, sending a jet of red light at the child. Harry scrambled to defend the child, but before the jet of light or Harry could do anything, the child vanished into thin air.

“Calliope, come out!” Voldemort demanded, twirling around, his ruby eyes scanning the whole Atrium. 

“And finding answers,” said a voice that Harry knew was Atlanta—the Atlanta he’d known since after her run-in with Voldemort. “It’s forgetting all the questions we called home. Passing the graves of the unknown.”

“CALLIOPE! I WILL FIND YOU!” Voldemort bellowed.

“As reasons clouds my eyes, with splendor fading,” said a posh British accent from the left. Harry jerked his head in the direction as Voldemort spun. He gasped at the sight of yet another child, this one vastly different from the first one, and not just because of the old fashion Slytherin uniform she wore. Harry hazarded a guess that this image was Calliope Riddle. She was polished, poised, and everything Atlanta Black had not been. “Illusions of the sunlight and a reflection of a _lie_ will keep me waiting with love gone for so long.”

Harry glanced at Voldemort, who appeared to be dumbfounded. 

“And this day’s ending is the proof of time _killing_ all the faith I had, knowing that faith is all I held.”

“Silence,” Voldemort ordered, sending another jet of light at the image. Like before, it vanished before the light hit it. “Come out and face me, Calliope!”

“ _And I’ve lost who I am and I can’t understand why my heart is so broken rejecting you love without love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on,”_ came the voice of Atlanta Lupin as she came into view. She appeared out of the shadows, looking as if she’d fought a war alone. Her hair was in disarray, her coat missing, her shoes missing, and blood dribbled out of a slash on her left side.

As if someone had stabbed her in the stomach. Harry gasped in horror at the very thought, but it surely must have happened as Atlanta had no way of knowing that was the vision Harry had fed Voldemort moments before. 

Voldemort stumbled backwards, feeling the force of the magic behind the words Atlanta was singing. (Or the sight of blood pouring out of her did him in, but Harry kind of doubted it.) 

“ _But all I know is that the end’s beginning_ ,” she spat out, raising her wand. Without speaking a spell, she sent a blue jet of light at Voldemort, who had to react quickly to block it. “ _Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart, let me go and I will run, I will not be silent.”_

She sent another jet of light and Voldemort flicked it away easily enough while stumbling backwards. Harry pressed himself into the edge of the fountain. While the anger wasn’t meant for him, Harry felt the power of Atlanta’s words nonetheless and unlike Voldemort, didn’t have the strength to do anything against it. 

“ _All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain, all is lost, hope remains and this war’s not over_ ,” Atlanta sung, shooting even more spells at Voldemort. Voldemort blocked the spells, not fighting back. “ _There’s a light, there’s the sun, taking all shattered ones, to the place we belong, and HIS LOVE WILL CONQUER ALL!”_

That line enraged Voldemort, and he finally shot a jet of red at Atlanta, who twirled out of the way seamlessly. They began to duel in ernest, doing things Harry had never witnessed. Magic was doing things Harry had thought it wasn’t able to do right before his very eyes. Harry was so thrown by the show of magic and Atlanta’s ability to duel beyond her years, he almost missed when Atlanta ripped Tom out of her arm and threw him off to the side. Tom soared through the air and through a few things before he managed to somehow stop himself. Harry shoved his hand into his pocket and realized suddenly what Atlanta had slipped into his pocket earlier when they had been in the Prophecy Room. He hurled the block towards Tom, who caught it. Meeting his eyes, Harry realized what they had to do. 

The song has some sort of power over Voldemort. The tune had distracted him in the Chamber of Secrets second year, it had scared him last summer when it’d sounded when their wands connected, and had caused him to defend and not attack just now.  

“ _And I’ve lost who I am, and I can’t understand, why my heart is so broken rejecting your love,”_ Harry and Tom bellowed out at the same time as loud as they could. 

Harry couldn’t exactly sing, but Tom could, even while shouting. Tom also had some magical force behind his words, thanks to being made out of Addy Black’s magic. While nowhere near as strong as when Atlanta had been shouting the words, they did cause Voldemort to twitch enough for Atlanta to get a hit in. Harry tried to pour some of his hate into the words flowing from his mouth hoping that’d hit Marv. 

“ _Who I am from the start take me home to my heart, let me go, I will run, I will not be silent. All this time spent in vain, wasted years, waisted gain, all is lost hope remains, and this war’s not over!”_

Having never actually witnessed a proper duel before, Harry was distracted from his lyrical shouting by the show of magic between Atlanta and Voldemort. It was utterly amazing and made him wonder why he’d been teaching the Defense class instead of Atlanta. They were tightly locked in battle, spells flying all over the place. Atlanta showed no strain, no weakness as she battled, even though sometimes Harry swore he saw blood flying out of the wound on her side. 

“ _There’s a light, there’s the sun, taking all shattered ones, to the place we belong, and his love will conquer all!”_ Tom shouted-slash-sung, visible magic flying out of his mouth in a shimmering grey color. It hit Voldemort in the head, making him bat it away as if it were a fly. Tom collapsed backwards. 

“His. Love. Will. Conquer ALL, T.M.,” Atlanta gritted out. “I will never,” black jet of light, “never,” blocked Voldemort’s spell, “never join you. I will die before I do so.”

Voldemort bellowed in rage, shooting a spell out that hit Atlanta in the chest, sending her stumbling backwards. Harry scrambled to his feet, but for some unknown reason went flying backwards, up over the ledge of the fountain and into the water. Sputtering he, scrambled to get out only to realize he’d lost his wand in the water. He searched around as Atlanta and Voldemort dueled and Tom shouted Atlanta’s song at Voldemort—who didn’t seem to notice that a version of himself was shouting at him.  

One of Voldemort’s spells landed again and Atlanta fell to her knees. Harry slashed through the water furiously trying to find his wand. 

“Yesterday I died,” Atlanta stated flatly, full on American accent.

“You are not dead.”

“But, I’ll be shortly. I’ll just sit here and bleed out, you don’t mind, do ya?”

She looked up at Voldemort and smiled ironically. 

“No,” Voldemort hissed, clutching his wand tightly. “Your death will be mine.”

“Sure. Take it. I just need to borrow a bit of your soul first. You won’t miss this bit, I promise.”

Tom gasped. “No.” 

Harry looked up. 

Voldemort appeared bemused. 

Quickly, Atlanta pointed her wand at Harry and shouted, “ _AMIAVITDO_!”

Tom howled, Voldemort screeched, and Harry screamed as pain shot through his head. It felt like someone was trying to rip his brian out through his scar. He crashed into the water backwards. He flayed around before he managed to roll over to his hands and knees. The pain lessened and Harry got himself up right and out of the water before he fell face first into the fountain and drowned. 

When he finally opened his eyes, the scene that greeted him was bad. Atlanta lay still ten feet from Voldemort, who still had his wand outstretched yet was unmoving. He could have been a statue. Tom was flat on his back, which was a little strange because it appeared as if he was solid and actually on his back on the floor and not floating above it as he should have been due to the fact his block was meters away from his limp hand. 

“Oh, Tom,” a new voiced sighed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Voldemort whirled around, a snarl on his face. “She was useless in this state.”

“And what state might that have been? Alive?”

“Dying.”

“A mercy killing?” Dumbledore asked, not sounding all that convinced. “You killed your sister. You spent years trying to find her and now that you have, you kill her?”

“She was dying,” Voldemort spat. “Weak.”

“She was not weak,” Dumbledore said. “She dueled you and she might have won while grievously wounded.”

“She was weak,” Voldemort insisted.

“The Aurors are on their way, Tom.”

“Don’t call me that!” Voldemort shirked, and a couple of things exploded. 

“That is your name,” Dumbledore pointed out. 

Voldemort let out a bellow of outrage and sent a spell that made everything vibrate. Harry’s hair stood on end even though it was sodding wet. Harry scrambled forward, only he failed to get anywhere because one of the statues grabbed him around the middle and hauled him away from the ongoing duel. Harry tried to fight the golden statue off, but failed miserably. He finally gave up and stared at the prone form of Bellatrix. 

Unfortunately, she wasn’t dead. Her chest moved steadily up and down. 

“Harry!”

Harry jerked and looked down to find Tom, very solid and in living color, scrambling over the edge of the fountain where Harry was once more, at least this time he wasn’t sitting in the water but rather dangling above it. 

“Tom?” Harry asked. “You’re solid.”

“I noticed,” Tom snapped, removing his outer robe and chucking it over his shoulder. “Where is your wand?”

“I dropped it in the fountain when I was flung in the first time,” Harry admitted as all the glass in the atrium exploded around them. Tom ducked into the water as glass rained down and plunged downwards as the statue repositioned itself to protect Harry. Harry closed his eyes as he listened to the glass rain down on them.  

“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore? Why not?” Voldemort demanded.

“We both known there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom. I must admit, merely taking your life would not make me happy in the least,” Dumbledore admitted. “There are much worst things than death.”

“YOU ARE WRONG!” Voldemort shouted. Harry heard his wand violently slash through the air. 

Harry felt a surge of emotions through is scar, making him dizzy. Voldemort did nothing in halves, least of all feeling what he did. 

Tom picked himself up out of the water, sputtering but triumphantly holding Harry’s wand. 

“Give it to me!” Harry cried.

Tom gave Harry a look that told Harry he as not getting his wand back any time soon. 

“Your failure to realize this is one of your greatest weaknesses,” Dumbledore insisted as if he was simply having a mild debate with Voldemort and not dueling the man to the death. 

“You are wrong, Albus. It is not my greatest weakness,” Voldemort said in a dangerous voice. 

Tom faltered, while Harry wondered if he had a build up of ear wax. 

“Tom,” Harry hissed, trying to extend his hand.

“My greatest weakness is no more,” Voldemort said, a dangerous hiss in his voice.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” Dumbledore bellowed, sounding scared. Harry looked at Tom, who froze mid-step. Harry really wished he could see Dumbledore’s face at the sight of a wet, teenage Tom Riddle in an ancient Slytherin uniform in the fountain. Tom turned a little to meet Harry’s eye and Harry did not like the fear he noted in Tom’s eyes. He opened to his mouth to ask what was going on when his scar exploded in pain. His head snapped back, smashing into the golden statue holding him hostage.

He was going to die. It was that simple. Death was on the menu. The pain was too much to take, so if he didn’t die, he’d be insane. It kind of sucked, as Tom was now solid, but whatever. He’d rather be dead than in pain. 

“Kill me now, Dumbledore,” Harry said in a voice that was not his own. Harry knew it had come out of his mouth due to the pain in his jaw. It felt like his jaw was going to sever itself from his skull each time it opened. “If death is nothing, kill the boy.”

Harry would have liked Dumbledore to do just that. He knew he wouldn’t, so Harry would just go on till the pain shattered his bones and his muscles liquified.

_All I know that the end’s beginning._

The pain suddenly broke. Harry wasn’t sure how, but he heard that line from the song and emotions were suddenly piling through Harry, spiraling all over and making his heart sing.

_Who I am from the start take me home to my heart._

Harry could see everyone’s faces. Sirius was laughing as Harry introduced him to the wonders of video games. Luna was dancing in circles while singing “Never Smile at a Crocodile” while shooting off hexes during a Defense Club meeting. Photos of Mum and Dad smiling up at him in the photo album Aunt Narcissa handed him with a soft smile on her face. 

_Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent_

Draco looking annoyed, but smiling as he called Harry The-Boy-With-a-Death-Wish, Hermione trying to explain something complicated to him, Neville blowing up cauldrons in his face, Ginny and Atlanta giggling in the corner of the Common Room, and finally Tom’s face as he smirked at Harry whilst sitting in the window seat at Park Quad. 

Harry felt calm and the pain left as Harry felt his face smack into something that felt firm, yet soft. It was also rather wet and smelled familiar. However, the familiar smell was not one that usually accompanied by so much warmth. 

Harry shivered, feeling as if he was filling up with ice. He opened his eyes. He was in Tom’s arms, but behind him Voldemort was peering at the pair through slitted red eyes. Feeling bold, Harry met the stare.

“What was that?” Voldemort asked, sounding a bit curious. He cocked his head to the side. 

“Love,” Harry replied.

“And what are you?” Voldemort asked, eyes focusing on Tom’s back. He raised his wand. Tom moved quickly. Still holding onto Harry, Tom whirled around and pointed Harry’s wand at Voldemort. 

“Your worst nightmare,” Tom spat. 

Voldemort sneered, but did not continue speaking to either boy due to the fact Cornelius Fudge and a few other high ranking Ministry employees were standing before the fountain, wearing dumbfounded expressions at the sight before them. Voldemort vanished from sight. 

“Oh!” Fudge dumbly said. 

Tom hauled Harry out of the fountain as more voices sounded all over the Atrium. 

“You’re solid,” Harry dumbly said, patting Tom as they collapsed on the ground next to the fountain.

“Good deduction,” Tom snapped. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Are you alright?” Dumbledore asked, appearing before them. Harry jerked back.

“Sure,” Harry said, craning his neck around Dumbledore to look at the people in the room. The walls lined with fireplaces all had emerald fire bursting from them and more people were pouring into the room. Harry noted Bellatrix was missing. Everyone was muttering, no one’s voice rising above anyone else's. They all appeared as if they’d just witnessed murder in the first degree. “Where’d Voldemort go?”

“Back to whatever hole he came from,” Tom snapped, then turned the weight of his blue gaze to Dumbledore. “We need to get him out of here.”

“Correct. You will explain in my office?” Dumbledore calmly asked Tom.

“Yes,” Tom said with a jerk of his head. “After Harry is—”

“I’m fine,” Harry insisted. “Nothing happened except pain. I’m totally used to that.”

Tom and Dumbledore both frowned. 

“H-h-h-h-he was here!”

Fudge jerked in surprise someone had spoken so loudly. 

“I saw him, Minister!” another shouted. “It was him!”

“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was here! Grabbed that woman and Disapparated!” another shouted, sounding outraged.

“What happened to everyone else?” Harry asked, grabbing the sleeve of Dumbledore’s robe. 

“Everyone you brought with you has been returned to Hogwarts. Sirius is not dead, but at Hogwarts with them. I’m sure you’ll get the details from your friends later. I need to sort things out here,” Dumbledore said as Fudge came into his sense.

“DUMBLEDORE! You’re….here!” Fudge shouted, sounding amazed. How he’d missed the six foot tall wizard in magenta robes was beyond Harry’s grasp at the moment. 

“If you proceed downstairs you’ll find an interesting group of people in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries,” Dumbledore said, tugging his robes out of Harry’s grasp and walking forward to meet Fudge. “I’ve set up an Anti-Disapparation Jinx so they won’t escape. There are Death Eaters in the Death Chamber.”

Tom helped Harry to his feet as Dumbledore chuckled at the last statement he’d made. Tom muttered under his breath. Harry gazed around at the other wizards who were all doing impersonations of fish. Fudge flapped his arms around.

“Seize him!” he blustered.

The fish stared at the bird and did nothing. Dumbledore became furious. 

“Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men and I’ll win again!” he thundered, his voice filling the huge room. 

Harry shirked back a bit, even though Dumbledore’s rage was not directed at him. He radiated with power and anger. 

No wonder Voldemort feared Dumbledore.

“You’ve seen Lord Voldemort with your own eyes, Cornelius. He has returned and you have been chasing the wrong men for twelve months while Lord Voldemort operated in secret! It is time you listened to sense.”

The group stepped away from Fudge. Fudge stuttered random words for a moment till he seemed to break down.

“Very well. Dawlish, Williamson! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see what is there. Dumbledore you will need to tell me exactly what occurred here tonight,” he ordered, a weak tremor in his voice. The two people he told to go downstairs, hurried off, eyeing Harry and the remains of the statues. At some point the statues all seemed to have exploded. “What happened to the Fountain of Magical Brethren?”

“Boom,” Harry said blankly and Fudge jumped.

“Harry? Harry Potter?”

“I will discuss that with you after I send Harry and Tom back to Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore glanced at Tom, who didn’t react to him using his name at all. This seemed to please Dumbledore greatly. 

“What are they doing here? Who is that boy?” Fudge demanded. “What is he wearing?”

“I shall explain in time,” Dumbledore said as if he was speaking to a three-year-old. 

Dumbledore reached out and grabbed a hunk of golden statue and muttered a spell Harry didn’t catch. The head glowed blue and trembled a bit before becoming still. 

“Now see here, you just made an illegal Portkey!” Fudge shouted. “I’m the Minister of Magic and you do not have the authro—”

Fudge’s voice failed when he noticed the look Dumbledore was giving him. 

Dumbledore turned back to Harry. “I’m going to send you to my office. I will meet you there to speak further in a half hour. Break whatever you’d like.”

Harry thought this was a bit of odd advice, since he felt like collapsing in a heap and sleeping for a million years. 

“Hold on here,” Dumbledore said. Harry still didn’t move. He blinked a few times. Dumbledore regarded him for a moment over the half moon spectacles. 

“Take the Portkey, Harry,” Tom ordered. 

Harry sat down on the ground near the head and stuck his hand on it. Tom followed suit. 

“One, two, three,” Dumbledore counted and the familiar sensation of a hook being jerked behind his navel happened. Harry was pulled forward into a whirl of colors and sounds, landing with a hard thud in Dumbledore’s office. He remained on the floor, staring blankly into the cold fireplace before him. 

“Atlanta’s dead,” he said to Tom.

“Yes,” Tom agreed. 

“You’re solid.”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you’re solid.”

Tom gazed at Harry. Harry felt himself color and looked away.

“Want to break things?” Tom casually asked, flicking Harry’s wand at himself. Steam issued from his clothes. Tom did the same to Harry, who suddenly felt wonderfully warm and dry.  

“What?”

“He said we could. How often does the headmaster say you’re allowed to break his stuff?” 

“That seems rather unnecessary,” Harry said.

Tom snorted. “You’re no fun. I feel like breaking objects.”

Harry dumbly watched Tom demolish the objects at random while the paintings all shouted at him to stop and control himself. 


	27. The Odd Couple

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. **

* * *

When Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace and into his office, he had expected it to be Harry Potter and not Tom Riddle who was destroying his office, yet it was a Slytherin Prefect hammering the spindly former table in the middle of his office with what appeared to be the sword of Gryffindor. 

Well, wasn’t that interesting…but not important at the moment. 

“Headmaster,” Harry said, jumping up from the seat he’d taken off to the side. Harry removed the Sorting Hat from his head and placed it back on the shelf, looking embarrassed to be caught having a discussion with Sherlock the Sorting Hat. 

The paintings all the walls began to clap and exclaimed cries of welcome upon seeing him, and Dumbledore thanked them before turning his attention to Harry. 

“You do know you are more than welcome to come speak with Sherlock throughout the school year if you wish, Harry,” Dumbledore kindly said, walking around the bits of pieces of his office. 

Tom had really done a number on his belongings. 

Dumbledore made his way to a hidden cabinet where he kept various spirits and potions. He opened it, fixed himself a stiff drink, then began to make tea for the boys. 

“Would you care for some tea?” he inquired. 

“Uh, sure,” Harry said, making his way to the two chairs that sat in front of Dumbledore’s desk. “Tom?”

Tom swung the sword once last time before grunting. He glared at Dumbledore for a moment before trudging over to the other chair and falling into it, trying to hide the look of pleasure and amazement at not going through the chair. 

Dumbledore didn’t wait for Tom Riddle to answer, as he wasn’t going to reply. While Dumbledore might not know this version of Tom Riddle as well as he knew the Voldemort version, there were some things about people that did not change no matter what and Tom being himself would always be rude. 

“Here,” Dumbledore said, setting the tray down on a table he transfigured from a broken bit of something. “Enjoy.”

Tom gave Dumbledore a look, but poured out tea for himself and Harry, making sure drink some himself before Harry had a chance. Harry stared till Tom nodded. 

Interesting.

Dumbledore settled behind his desk and studied the two boys, who by all rights should not be seated next to one another, let alone the friends they were. Dumbledore had always seen them as mirror image of one another: young orphans, left in environments where they did not flourish, usually alone, and half-bloods. They were physically alike in some ways as well, with their dark hair and jewel colored eyes—though Tom was quite tall for a boy his age and Harry rather short. 

“Now—”

“What happened to Atlanta?” Harry asked before Dumbledore could finish. 

“I moved her body somewhere private,” Dumbledore replied.

Harry shook his head, setting his tea cup down. “No. I mean, who stabbed her?”

He turned to Tom, who shifted uneasily and looked away.

“You weren’t together?” Dumbledore clarified.

Harry shook his head while Tom stubbornly stared off to the side. 

“No, Atlanta went with Ginny, Luna, and Neville—who were later followed by Tonks. I went a different way, back the way we came to find Regulus.”

“Yes, it seems some of the Order went to the Ministry without telling the rest of us,” Dumbledore said mildly. 

“How’d you, uh, find out?” Harry asked, digging the tip of his shoe into the floor. 

“Professor Snape could not find any of you after the water balloon fight with Umbridge and her Inquisition Squad, and alerted headquarters—only to discover no one was there.”

Tom’s head shot up. “They didn’t leave anyone behind to answer the fireplace?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Where’s Aunt Narcissa?” Harry asked, color draining from his face.

“She returned home while I was at the Ministry, having taken tea with her sister and her husband at their home,” Dumbledore replied. “Professor Snape met her there and told her what was going on.”

Harry nodded, looking less distraught. “Am I in trouble?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “For what? Going off to the Ministry or organizing Professor Umbridge’s departure via water balloon?”

“She’s gone?”

“Yes. One of the water balloons wasn’t actually a water balloon. It picked her up and carried her off into the Forest. She hasn’t been seen or heard from since. I ought to go get her,” Dumbledore said, looking out the window behind him over his shoulder. The sun would be rising soon, but he could make out the big, red balloon that had carried her off. It was bobbing away over the Forbidden Forest. 

“Why did you chase Bellatrix?” Tom asked, turning his attention to Harry. 

Dumbledore had a feeling he was about to become an observer to the conversation rather than a participant. 

“Why? Because…well, I was worried she’d killed Sirius. I mean, I know she didn’t. The curse was red, not green, but I literally saw red the moment her spell connected with Sirius in that creepy Death Chamber. And, well, we know in the last time line he died in that Chamber.”

“No, we don’t. All Draco knows is Sirius was killed in that battle and Bellatrix did it,” Tom said, sounding a little prissy. “What happened after you spilt up from Atlanta?”

“Well, we made our way back to Regulus. Draco and Hermione stayed with Regulus and he sent me to the Death Chamber because—”

“That was the only room large enough to battle a gaggle of Death Eaters and not harm the department further,” Tom finished, nodding. 

“Yeah, so, I went there, found Sirius and then we waited for some Death Eaters to show up. They did and a real fight broke out. It was…well, it was a fight. They still thought I had the prophecy because they weren’t trying to kill me. Well, except Bellatrix. She tried to kill me several times till she started dueling with Sirius. That, well, that made her…”

Harry looked disgusted and had no idea how to describe that level of insane.

“Yes, yes. Bellatrix stabbed Atlanta when Atlanta made a show of smashing the fake prophecy on the ground. She was less than pleased.”

“So, Bellatrix really stabbed her?” Harry asked. “For real?”

Tom wore a confused expression but nodded. 

“Wow.”

“Explain.”

“Well, when Voldemort was poking around in my head I thought really hard about Atlanta being stabbed by Bellatrix just to mess with him. Mostly because I hate him with a flaming passion,” Harry said, making a fist with his right hand and shaking it a little. 

“You fed Voldemort a vision?”

“Yes.”

“He believed it?”

“He must. He did something to Bellatrix that knocked her out, though, he must not have been that mad, as he took her with her when he left.”

“Cleaning up after himself.”

“Did Atlanta knock Tonks out?”

“Yes. Tonight was a night of using spells Addy invented without telling me.”

“What?” Harry asked confused. 

“Well, that explains that,” Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard. 

Both teenagers turned towards him. 

“Nyphadora was hard to wake and when she did said she’d never heard of the spell Miss Lupin shouted,” Dumbledore explained. “It also explains you.”

“Me?” Tom asked flatly. 

Dumbledore nodded. “Did you happen to hear the spell that made you solid?”

Tom shook his head. 

“I did. It kind of sounded like…Avent something or other,” Harry offered. “I didn’t really catch it before my scar erupted in pain.”

Dumbledore frowned a little at that. “Your scar hurt?”

“Yeah, we all screamed. And not for ice cream,” Harry remarked. 

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow at that. He pondered what it could mean that when Atlanta Lupin did the spell that made Tom solid, Harry’s scar hurt.

“She said she needed some of Voldemort’s soul and he’d never miss it,” Harry said quietly, studying Dumbledore carefully. “Could…”

He glanced at Tom, who gave him a withering look. 

“So, you know about horcruxes? Interesting. How did you figure that out?” Dumbledore inquired mildly. 

A little earlier than he’d planned, but not unlikely judging by how many who lived with Harry knew. 

“I wondered about the…scar,” Tom admitted grudgingly. 

“So, we’d known about it before Regulus told me last summer,” Harry sheepishly confessed. 

Dumbledore turned to Tom, studying him for signs of lying when he asked, “You believe Harry’s a horcrux?”

“Yes.”

“But, maybe not now,” Harry early suggested. “What if the spell Atlanta did to make you solid took the horcrux in my head and gave it to you?”

Tom looked askance. “Why would she do that?”

“To get it out of me.”

“But, she needed a bit of Voldemort—”

“Which I had!”

“But, then why would she wait till she was dying to do the spell? If she knew that spell, why let me dither all summer over the spells I created?”

“You dithered? You don’t seem the dithering type, Tom.”

Tom glared at Harry, looking as if he wished to club the boy over the head.

“I believe Miss Lupin could not do the spell unless she was dying,” Dumbledore said, making both boys snap their attention to him. “I’m guessing here, but a spell that would bring another being to life from a state of not really living would require a life in exchange.”

Tom kneaded the space between his eyebrows and sat back hard. Harry, meanwhile, looked appalled. 

“When would Atlanta gotten a hold of the spell?” Tom asked, still ashen. “I know there was a spell, but it was within a box none of us could open. Addy created a spell, but only she had access to it.”

“I believe Miss Black told Miss Lupin when they met,” Dumbledore suggested. 

“But why would she…well, I guess she was dying and knew it,” Harry mumbled, looking ashamed to be thinking or saying what he was. 

The boy sat quietly for a moment before Tom peaked up through is hair at Dumbledore.

“There was something deeper wrong with her,” Tom quietly said, looking as if it pained him to say what he was gearing up to say. 

Tom Riddle before Dumbledore was so different from the Tom Riddle who became Voldemort and it was utterly amazing. Never before did Dumbledore think he’d seen genuine guilt on Tom Riddle’s beautiful face. 

“Her mind snapped, didn’t it?” Dumbledore quietly asked. “You saw multiple personalities?”

 It had been a fear of his when she’d returned from the past. Dumbledore had dismissed it because it was more likely she would simply go insane before the personalities were able to separate themselves so she could move between them.

It seemed, if Tom was correct, this had happened. 

“Yes, sir,” Tom replied. “We should have said something, but she…”

“Seemed okay,” Harry finished.

“Understandable,” Dumbledore softly said. 

“Before, when her wall would fail, she’d simply just become more like Calliope. Since Voldemort’s return, someone else would appear,” Tom explained.

“Atlanta Black,” Harry filled in. “The accent would go more American.”

“Yes. And she…thought differently than Calliope or Atlanta Lupin.”

Something dawned to Tom as he said this, but he did not share. 

“He would not have wanted her in this state,” Dumbledore realized, sitting back in his own chair, his back smacking against the tall back. “He wanted Calliope, not Atlanta.”

“She…she knew he might kill her if he realized that, didn’t she?” Harry asked, looking at Tom. 

Tom swallowed loudly and looked anywhere but at Harry. Harry reached out and grabbed Tom’s arm.

“She didn’t sacrifice herself, Tom. Bellatrix stabbed her,” Harry said. “She would have died even if Voldemort hadn’t killed her.”

“But, she knew he would if he realized her mind was fractured beyond repair,” Tom whispered, slowly turning white.  

“But he didn’t realize it,” Harry pointed out. “She had a plan, didn’t she? And that wasn’t letting him realize that, right?”

“No. She simply wanted to keep him upstairs till Dumbledore could duel him,” Tom whispered. 

“See,” Harry said desperately, “she didn’t want to die. We did everything we could, but we couldn’t control Bellatrix’s actions.”

“No. You’re right.” 

“I’d like to change the subject,” Dumbledore said quietly. The two boys turned to him and waited. “Why did you go?”

Tom and Harry exchanged glances before looking back at Dumbledore in unison. It was clear from their body language they spent quite a bit of time together. Dumbledore really wanted to laugh or cry, he wasn’t sure.

“We had to go. Voldemort needed to be brought into the public eye. He needed to be seen by the Minister. From the dreams I was having, we figured out he was still obsessed—”

“They didn’t stop after you began classes with Professor Snape?”

“No. During the day I was able to keep Voldemort’s emotions out of my head, but anytime I fell asleep, I couldn’t stop him. I tried, Professor, I did.”

“That is all I can ask. Continue.”

“Anyway, we knew that Voldemort didn’t know that Aunt Narcissa and I had gone to get the prophecy or that I smashed it upon hearing it. Uh, because of Draco, uh…”

“I do know about Mr Malfoy being a time traveller, so go on.”

“Draco knew that Potter collapsed during the History of Magic OWL, so I didn’t put up my shields whilst taking the exam, so I got his fake vision of Aunt Narcissa.”

Dumbledore nodded.

“And then you contacted Sirius?”

“Yes. Regulus had set up the plan to infiltrate the Ministry and make Marv go public.”

“And putting your fellow students in danger?”

Harry looked embarrassed.

“They insisted on tagging along,” Tom said firmly. “Longbottom, Weasley, and Lovegood were told multiple times not to come along, but they were insistent. Atlanta as well. She wanted to face him. Likely to give him a piece of her mind.” 

“It was reckless,” Dumbledore quietly said. 

“I didn’t want to take them,” Harry ground out. “I would have gone alone—”

“Also reckless.”

“I had to go!” Harry insisted. 

“He did, Headmaster,” Tom quietly said. “Time would have made sure something happened. Best it not happen at the school but rather someplace we were able to have a margin of control over the situation.”

“I take it that was what Miss Tonks, Mr Weasley, Professor Lupin, and the two Mr Blacks were there for?”

“Yes. We knew the Death Eaters would not attack us whilst in the Hall of Prophecies due to Harry having what they perceived was the prophecy.”

“And once you split up?”

“That was Atlanta’s doing. We weren’t supposed to do that,” Tom reported flatly. “She wished to get to the Atrium before Harry to set some things up to stall Voldemort.”

“What did she set up for Voldemort?” Dumbledore inquired.

“She used these globes to project images from the past of herself. They sung her song she wrote while in 1943,” Tom began. “It always makes him stop and pause.”

“Or not attack,” Harry added. “She did a good job at distracting him till…” Harry gulped. “The end. She…the wound in her side…”

Tom looked off to the side. “It was too grievous to be healed. Bellatrix knows how to land a fatal blow without much effort.”

“That she does,” Dumbledore agreed. 

“Time required a death,” Tom muttered bitterly. 

“I hate Time,” Harry grumbled, grinding his teeth together.

“Is Time a person?” Dumbledore queried. “You keep referring to it as if it is.”

“Time is a mad woman in a box,” Harry groused. “Who I hate.”

“And how did you arrive at this conclusion?”

Both Tom and Harry stared at Dumbledore as if he were crazy.

“There is a book in the restricted section called _Time Traveling Souls_. You ought to read it over the summer,” Tom informed him, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Dumbledore extended his head. 

“So, you believed you had to face Voldemort due to…”

“Fixed points,” Tom and Harry said in unison.

“And decided to do it on your own terms?” Dumbledore asked, turning to Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Each summer is fixed no matter what we do. A showdown with Marvs always happens in some manner, so last year we tried to control the situation, but as we all know that didn’t work.”

“What did you try to do last year?”

“Not touch the cup,” Harry said flatly. “Or, well, I didn’t want Cedric to touch the cup. We figured out it was a portkey, or we thought it might be, so my job was to get there first.”

“He reached it first, I take it?”

Harry nodded sadly. 

“So, you say each year, you’ve known you were going to face Voldemort in some form?”

In the back of his mind, Dumbledore couldn’t believe the boys were freely speaking of the time traveling aspect with him, especially since Draco was so tight lipped in the past. 

“Well, no,” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his head, messing up his hair further in a familiar gesture. “Draco didn’t tell me he was a time traveller till his secret came out when we were in the Shirking Shack third year.”

Dumbledore nodded. “But, so far, each year, similar things have occurred between the timelines?”

“Yeah. There are things that are different, but there seem to be major plot points that always happen no matter what.”

“It’ll make sense if you read the book,” Tom offered. 

“And in Draco’s original timeline, you went to the Ministry?”

“Yes,” Harry answered. 

“And that was how the wizarding world accepted that Voldemort had returned?”

“Yes.”

Dumbledore nodded, steepleing his fingers together and pressing them to his lips. While he could inquire what next year held, he knew that would not be wise. While the children were operating with the knowledge, Dumbledore was a cat of a different color when it came to time travel. He was old and powerful and had messed with things beyond his control at a young age. No, it was best he not know.

“Alright.”

Tom stared at him. “That’s it?”

“Well, we will have to come up with a story for your appearance,” Dumbledore offered. “You bare a strong resemblance to TR DeVinette, so we ought to work him into the equation.”

“I am TR DeVinette,” Tom muttered.

“I figured that was so upon seeing you,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Now—”

“Is there going to be a funeral for Atlanta?” Harry blurted out.

“I would assume. You must speak to Professor Lupin,” Dumbledore said kindly. 

Harry nodded. 

“Where will I live?” Tom asked. 

“Where have you been living?”

“With Professor Lupin,” Tom stated. “In the flat Addy Black bought after we finished our Mastery.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore said, nodding. 

“I bet he’ll let you stay,” Harry said, frowning.

“I’m the reason his daughter is dead,” Tom stated flatly.

“No,” Harry bellowed, vaulting to his feet. “You are not! Bellatrix is the reason she’s dead! Voldemort is the reason she’s dead! You are not the reason!”

“But the only reason I am alive is because she is dead!” Tom shouted, getting to his feet and using his height to tower over Harry. 

Harry pushed him in the chest, making the taller boy stumbled backwards.

“You are alive because she used her impending death for something good! Lupin will see that! He’s not a monster! And he’s been your friend for years! He knows you! He knows you’d never ask her to die for you!”

Tom gaped, lost for words. 

“He is correct, Tom,” Dumbledore quietly said. “The fact that you are suffering now proves you are human. Take heart at that.”

Tom stared.

“Tom was human before,” Harry insisted. 

“Voldemort does not suffer. He does not feel any regret or guilt for Atlanta’s death. The moment it was over, he was done.”

Tom pressed his lips together, a miserable air to him. Harry slowly walked over to him and put an arm awkwardly on his back and patted him a few times. 

“I do not like…feeling,” Tom admitted. “But, I cannot stop.”

“It’s what makes you human.”

Tom sighed, his whole body slumping down in a manner Dumbledore never witnessed Tom Riddle do before. He hadn’t been sure Tom Riddle could do anything other than stand up straight and stiff. 

“I lost…Addy. And now…”

“You’ve lost Atlanta,” Harry quietly said. “We’ve all lost her, Tom. We’ll get through this.” 

Tom turned to face Harry and stared down at him. Dumbledore had no idea what passed between the two pairs of jewel colored eyes, but after a minute, Tom bowed his head, hiding behind his wavy hair. Harry leaned forward. Tom collapsed the rest of the distance between them, resting his head on top of Harry’s and let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t like it at all,” he whispered. 

“Nor I.”

Tom shuddered and Dumbledore looked elsewhere, studying the various items scattered around his office. It would keep him occupied until morning tidying the mess Tom had made. 

“We’ll do it together,” Harry whispered as Dumbledore noted Fawkes had finally gotten on with things and been reborn. He was sitting in a pile of ash, watching the teenagers get a hold of themselves through seldom eyes. 

“How? It’s supposed to be you.”

“No. It just said I will have a power he doesn’t know about,” Harry said, his voice tittering on excitement. “I’ve got you, Regulus, a time traveling Draco, and two parental figures I didn’t have last time. I’ve got people. That’s my power: the people in my life. I love them, care for them, and they do the same for me. Does Voldemort got that?”

“No.”

“We love, Tom,” Harry whispered quickly. “He doesn’t. Remember the always locked room?”

“The power of love,” Tom flatly said. “That’s what is going to destroy Voldemort?”

“Yes,” Harry said, sounding like he meant it.

Dumbledore casually looked at the boys, who were now holding hands, gripping so tight it was amazing they weren’t breaking one another’s bones. Dumbledore quickly looked away. He’d contemplate that later. 

“Fine,” Tom agreed. “We’ve first got to get rid of all the horcruxes without him noticing.”

“Well, yeah. Minor issue.”

Dumbledore sighed. Regulus had shared the theory of multiple horcurxes with the boys as well. Ah, well. His original plan had flown out the window earlier. Dumbledore cleared his throat to remind the two of his presence. 

“I’ve a feeling that next year is going to be a little more…interesting than it might have been in Mr Malfoy’s time,” he offered, looking at his desktop and tracing random patterns. He glanced up to find Harry and Tom looking at him. Harry looked a little freaked out while Tom looked pleased. He smirked.

“Are you going to move the timeline, Headmaster?” he asked, a glint of the Tom Riddle Dumbledore knew well shining through. 

“That, Mr Riddle, is for another time,” Dumbledore said cryptically, motioning it was time for the boys to leave. “Now, I believe you should retire to Gryffindor Tower, where I am sure Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger are waiting to let you know the status of your other friends.”

Harry nodded, grabbing Tom by the sleeve.

“No. I need to speak to the headmaster about who I am going to be,” Tom clarified at Harry’s narrowed eye look. 

Harry nodded, said goodnight to Dumbledore, and exited the office. Dumbledore studied the Tom Riddle before him. He was still wearing his school uniform, though he’d lost his over robe and sweater vest at some point and had untucked his shirt. It was the most sloppy Dumbledore had ever seen Tom Riddle, from his clothes to the state of his hair. The Riddle Dumbledore had known would never had allowed anyone to see him less than perfect. 

“Did Draco tell you how I came into being?”

“Not really,” Dumbledore hedged.

Tom took a deep breath and in a flat voice told the tale of how he came into being nineteen years before due to a clumsy witch and Cassiopeia’s fascination with inventing dangerous potions. Dumbledore heard about how Tom spent his early days with Atlanta Black and later grew to care a great deal for her. Dumbledore had to wipe away a stray tear as Tom retold the day Atlanta Black had died and the turmoil of his life in the following years. 

“I didn’t leave the house for the next fifteen years, give or take. Until a little girl appeared in the flat and requested to meet me,” Tom said. “She offered to take me to Hogwarts and I came.”

“To meet Harry.”

“Of course. I wished to meet Harry Potter,” Tom admitted. “I wanted to see the boy who was the cause of the downfall of Voldemort. I wanted to observe him and figure out a good way to aid him in vanquishing Voldemort without waging the war that Addy had lived through before she time traveled to 1976.” 

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, if we could avoid Hogwarts becoming a battlefield, that would be for the best.”

“So, what are we to do?”

“I believe you will be TR DeVinette’s child. You may go by Tom Riddle, as _DeVinette_ is French for riddle is it not?”

“ _La devinette_ ,” Tom said in flawless French. “I wish to be known as Tom Riddle.”

There was a conviction in the tone that Dumbledore appreciated. He folded his hands and set them on top of the desk. 

“Alright. And your relation to DeVinette?” Dumbledore asked.

“Father. We look too much alike to be anything else, don’t you think?” Tom asked casually, flicking his hair out of his face. His eyes grew large and he looked slightly vindictive. “I can cut my hair now.”

“Yes, yes you can. So, you will be the child of DeVinette?”

“And an anonymous donor, as DeVinette doesn’t leave his house, yet he wished to have an heir,” Tom replied, putting his hands behind his back. 

“That is not done in our world.”

“But in the Muggle world it is,” Tom replied. 

“So, then you’d be a half-blood?”

“Of course,” Tom scoffed. “Will you do the paperwork?”

“Yes. I will have it when you start school next year.”

Tom made a face. “Really?”

“Would you like to be elsewhere? I doubt you’ll be able to tag along as you’ve been these past few years,” Dumbledore said. 

Tom made a face. “I’ve already sat fourth year.”

“Fifth year?”

“No,” Tom sighed. “I’ve done most of it with Harry. And I already sat sixth and seventh years through Addy Black.”

“While it would make sense for your father to send you to Hogwarts after homeschooling to take your OWLs, I believe you’d rather be in class with Harry, correct?”

“Yes. But, I don’t think I’d be in Gryffindor.”

“Would you like to try on Sherlock and see if that’s so?”

Tom frowned, looking at the Sorting Hat where it silently sat on the shelf. Dumbledore was about to move on when Tom marched over and grabbed Sherlock, jamming it on his head. There was a moment of silence before Sherlock muttered, “Gryffindor.”

Tom smugly took the hat off.

“You talked him into that, didn’t you?”

“It is our choices that show who we truly are rather than our abilities,” Tom said airily.

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow.

“Will you need a repeat performance at the start of the school year?”

“No. I believe that will do. We will say your father grew too busy to tutor you and relented to allow you to attend school. People might question your close relationship with Harry, so be careful with how familiar you are with one another.”

“What will I do till everyone leaves?” Tom inquired, a smug look on his pretty face.

“Ah, so you’ll let the world know you already know Harry,” Dumbledore realized. “And why are you here?”

“Harry and I have written to one after meeting in Diagon Alley one afternoon when he was eleven. I came to his aid last night, as his other friends did. Instead of going home, I came here to seek medical attention and Madam Pomfrey wishes to keep me under supervision till the end of the school year.”

“Thorough, Tom. I think that will be all. It is good to see you,” Dumbledore said, smiling a little. “Finally.”

Tom smirked, bowed, and exited the office. Dumbledore sat back in his chair and began to wonder what was in store for next year. 

He ought to retire.


	28. Cat's Out of the Bag

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JKR. “The Song is Ended (but the Melody Lingers On)” music by Irving Berlin, lyrics written by Beda Loehner.  **

* * *

The article appeared the next morning in the  _Daily Prophet_ announcing the return of Voldemort. Draco glanced through it, noting the reporting was solid. The group was seated under a tree on the grounds trying to enjoy the warm weather. Draco wasn’t sure what the deal with Tom was, but he was seated in the sunlight rather than the shade, letting the bright sunshine hit his pale face. Draco didn’t begrudge him this due to the fact the boy hadn’t felt the sun for nineteen years. He did begrudge that neither Harry or Tom were talking about how and why Tom was solid. 

Everyone had healed: Neville’s nose instantly fixed, Ginny’s ankle healed in a thrice, Luna put right in a few hours, and Sirius’ head fixed so no one would know he’d been partially bald for a few hours. There had been nothing wrong with Harry, Tom, Hermione, or Draco other than a few cuts and bruises, or in Tom’s case being alive. Madam Pomfrey had dithered, but in the end let them all go, only telling them she’d have to see Tom for the next few days till the end of term to make sure he was…still fine. 

Draco wasn’t sure what that meant, but he figured it had to do with the fact Tom Riddle was now a real boy.

He was solid.

And Draco did not like that at all. (Nor did Sirius.) 

“He’s ‘the Boy Who Lived’ again,” Hermione sighed, folding her copy of the _Daily Prophet_. “No longer the show-off maniac. Well, that’s…good.”

“Well, it is an amazing feat he’s still alive,” Draco drawled without much feeling behind his words. “He has a death wish.”

Harry threw a pile of dead leaves at Draco. Draco brushed them off himself and with a quick flick of his wand shot a stream of water at Harry’s face.

“Boys!” Hermione warned.

They ceased and silence fell upon the group.

“When is the funeral?” Neville awkwardly asked. “I only ask…because I’ll have to tell Gran and convince her to let me go.”

“It’s the day after we get back,” Tom said, turning his face away from the sun. “I’ll have Professor Lupin send you a portkey. She’s being laid to rest…somewhere Voldemort will never find her.”

“Can we all get those?” Ginny asked, eyeing Tom as if she still wasn’t sure what to make of him. She had admitted he did not look or behave as the Tom Riddle she was familiar with, but at his core he was still Tom Riddle and Ginny knew it. 

“Of course. Professor Lupin wouldn’t begrudge you of paying your respects to your best friend,” Tom said, looking a little put out that Ginny would even wonder. 

Ginny swallowed and wiped at her face. Luna patted her on the back.

“She was in pain, now she is not,” Luna quietly said, setting down _The Quibbler_ she’d been reading upside down. “Death is another journey, an adventure.”

“She was…she…” Ginny struggled to put her thoughts together. “We should have stopped her from running off.”

Tears streamed down Ginny’s face, yet it was clear she was fighting tooth and nail not to cry.

“Nothing stopped her once she’d made up her mind,” Tom quietly said. 

“Stubborn brat,” Ginny muttered, wiping her face again. 

Hermione sniffed, flicking the corner of her eye. Draco moved closer to her, moving his arm to pat her back. He didn’t get to pat her back before she moved and suddenly was pressing herself into his side. Draco’s arm hung awkwardly for a moment before he put it around her, feeling glee and alarm at the same time.

It was all too bizarre. And it felt wrong to be taking pleasure when Atlanta had been murdered. Yet, he knew Atlanta wouldn’t begrudge him. She’d expect them to carry on.

“Flitwick got rid of the swamp,” Neville said a little too loud into the heavy silence. “Did it in about three-seconds, though he left a tiny patch under the window. He roped it off.”

“Why?” Harry asked, looking at Neville as if he’d saved the world.

“Said it was a really good bit of magic,” Neville admitted, shrugging.

Ginny beamed. “He left it as a monument to Fred and George. Oh, and they sent me these.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a huge bag of Chocolate Frogs. She grinned a little as she opened the bag and set it in the center of the circle they were all seated. 

“I guess they heard about the way we got rid of Umbridge, using a few of their new products.”

“The balloon that took her away?” Harry guessed. 

“Wasn’t actually part of the plan,” Ginny admitted, shrugging. “It was a test product that accidentally got mixed in with what they’d left Lee.” 

Tom snorted.

“Where did Dumbledore find her?” Hermione asked. She’d still not moved away from Draco, even when she reached into the bag for a Chocolate Frog.  

“The balloon was near where Gwarp lives, but the centaurs carried her off at some point. No idea how Dumbledore got her out or found her, but she’s laid up in the hospital wing,” Harry said, giving Hermione a look. 

Hermione hummed a pleased sound and bit the head off her Frog. Draco shook his head, letting himself lean a little into Hermione. Even though they’d not planned to have Umbridge carted off to the Forest, she still wound up there—via a big red balloon rather than being led by Harry and Hermione.

Maybe Time hated Umbridge as much as they did? 

“Looks like Trelawney and Firenze are going to teach Divination next year,” Ginny offered, chomping on a Frog. “And Hagrid’s returned last night. Or at least I think so, as I saw smoke coming from his hut this morning.”

“Likely came back when Dumbledore did,” Harry agreed. He stood up and brushed the grass off his trousers. “I’m going to head in. Tom?”

Tom stood up, brushing the crease out of his clothes with a small look of glee. He ran his hand through his shorter hair (which made him look insanely pleased with himself) and followed Harry, stuffing his hands into his pockets and casually strolling while Harry was almost jogging to keep up with the long-legged Tom Riddle. 

“Where’d he get clothes?” Ginny asked, watching Harry and Tom leave. 

“Their mine,” Draco said. “He was rather eager to shed his uniform he’s worn day in and day out for nineteen years.”

Ginny shuddered while Neville looked bewildered, then shook his head as if he didn’t really want to think very hard on the topic.

“I like his hair. You can see his pretty eyes better,” Luna remarked, flipping _The Quibbler_ over and going back to reading. 

“Did he trim it?” Ginny asked.

“No. Harry trimmed it, I believe with a lot of instruction from His Royal Highness,” Draco drawled. 

Hermione elbowed him hard enough to knock him over. Ginny giggled while Neville looked torn on if he should laugh or look upset on Draco’s behalf. 

* * *

“Harry doesn’t want to talk about Atlanta,” Hermione quietly told Draco three days before the end of term. 

“Should he?”

“Yes. He witnessed her being murdered,” Hermione whispered. 

“He’ll speak about it with Tom, like he did with Cedric,” Draco said, though he didn’t like it any better than Hermione judging by her expression. Nor did he think Harry actually spoke to Tom about what happened in that graveyard. 

“They both were there when she died,” Hermione needlessly reminded Draco.

Neither Harry or Tom was very willing to talk about how Tom was made solid, but Hermione and Draco had pieced it together from what they were saying and not saying. Atlanta’s death had something to do with it. 

“Well, I guess Harry didn’t see due to the fact his horcrux was being ripped out of his head and Tom was busy becoming solid. So, technically, only Marv witnessed the event,” Hermione tried to reason. “I don’t really fancy talking to him.” 

“We don’t know any of that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what she did when she said she needed a bit of his soul,” Hermione said. “From what little I’ve researched on the topic, to make something that’s not living alive, you need to give it a life. It’s very, very, very dark magic, which is why I think Tom rejected it.”

“A life for a life?” Draco asked, feeling sick. 

“I snuck a peak at his research when we were at the house over Christmas break,” Hermione admitted. “He snatched it before I could really get a good look, but that’s what he’d found. And judging by the amount of paper wadded up in his waste bin, he’d not found a way around it.” 

“Well, okay, but how did she know a bit of Voldemort’s soul was in Harry’s head?”

Hermione thought for a moment before making a frustrated noise. 

“Okay, maybe she didn’t. But, I have no doubt the bit of soul that made Tom solid came from Harry rather than Voldemort.”

“Well, I’d rather have a bit of soul that lived with Harry than one that came straight from Voldemort,” Draco remarked. 

“Yes. Me too,” Hermione agreed. 

* * *

The day before term ended, Umbridge escaped— or tried to. She crept out in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, Peeves was still stalking her, so he seized his last chance to do as Fred had asked and chased her gleefully from the grounds, whacking her with a sock full of chalk and pelting her with water balloons that turned her into a multicolored wonder. Granted, no one saw as they were all asleep, but Peeves was happy to tell anyone and do demonstrations on the IS members moodily roaming the school.

Nott was indeed surly. He cast dark looks every time he saw Harry and twitched for his wand, yet never drew it. Everyone gave him wide berth, as his father had been listed as one of the arrested Death Eaters in the papers. Granted, Draco’s had as well, but the entire school knew where Draco stood when it came to Death Eaters. Everyone knew he’d gone along with Harry to the Ministry to do whatever. The rumors raged from close to the truth, rescue mission to save someone Voldemort had kidnapped, to a little far-fetched, Voldemort had taken the Ministry and Harry had gone to stop him. Others said Voldemort was trying to steal a weapon from the Ministry and Harry had gone to stop them (along with his new friend, who had appeared on the front page with Harry and Dumbledore in a photo snapped by someone at the Ministry. Tom hadn’t been identified, but the gossip columns were alive with speculation where he’d come from).

On the morning they were to leave, Draco noticed lines drawn at the Slytherin table. Usually, the entire table sat by year, but today they were clearly split into those who supported Voldemort and those who didn’t. The group wasn’t all that large— but it was there. 

“Why are you staring at the Slytherin table as if it holds the answer to all the questions of the universe?” Harry asked, looking at the table as well. “Is it a big deal Blaise and Ronald are seated at the other end today?”

“Yes. The end they’re seated at, those are all the students who are against Voldemort,” Draco whispered. “Or, well, they weren’t actually on any side as far as I knew. Zabini was mostly out for himself last time, whatever did the best for him. He really only hung out with me sixth year, and acted as if he was disgusted by Muggleborns and blood traitors.”

“Only acted?”

“He had the biggest crush on Ginny Weasley,” Draco whispered. “Denied it, but everyone knew.”

Harry snorted. “So, it’s a big deal then, them sitting like this?”

“Yes. Very big deal,” Draco agreed. 

* * *

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express started off with a bang.

Literally.

Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle pounced, clearly waiting for an opportunity to strike without a teacher to witness. They jumped Harry on his way to a compartment. He was running behind for some reason, thus he was alone as he wandered down the corridor looking for Draco, Hermione, and Tom. Fortunately for Harry and unfortunate for Nott, they attacked outside a compartment full of DMC members. Upon seeing Harry in trouble, they came to his aid. 

The loud bang caused by one of the jinxes set off was what caused Tom, Draco, and Hermione to enter the corridor to find Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle lying on the ground looking like slugs.

Draco laughed. Hard. Mostly because it wasn’t him that was a slug on the ground. He gleefully helped Finch-Fletchery and Macmillian hoist the three onto a luggage rack. He watched the trio ooze for a moment before heading back to the compartment to join his friends. 

“That happened last time, didn’t it?” Tom asked when Draco sat down.

“Yes.”

Tom shook his head and settled into the corner with a thick book that Hermione would called light reading. 

Draco and Harry began a game of Exploding Snape. Hermione joined Tom in reading a huge book. The afternoon past and by the time the train began to slow as they approached King’s Cross, Draco wondered what would happen if he simply refused to get off the train. He was dreading going to Atlanta’s funeral. He’d never been to one before for someone he actually cared for. He’d been to funerals: his grandfather’s, various dead distant relatives, Dumbledore’s, but he’d never had someone he really cared for die. 

They silently gathered their belongings. Draco caught sight of Lupin on the platform, looking pale and lost. Sirius was standing next to him, looking as if he wanted to comfort Lupin yet didn’t know how. 

“Is Professor Lupin here for you?” Hermione inquired, glancing at Tom who handed Harry the huge book to put in his trunk. 

“Yes,” Tom said. “I’ll see you all tomorrow?”

He appeared desperate not to leave the train and go to home with Lupin. 

“I’ll come by later if you want,” Harry offered. “And I’ll portkey over with you tomorrow, yeah?”

Tom nodded.

The four of them made their way out to the platform. Narcissa crushed both Harry and Draco to her chest and didn’t let go for a full five minutes. Sirius crushed them next and finally Lupin grabbed Harry, hugging him and crying on him a little. By the time they’d untangled from the adults, Hermione had gone and Tom looked as if he didn’t know what to do. 

“Nice to meet you, Tom,” Narcissa said, who’d been told the cover story about Tom. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

Tom nodded stiffly, bowing to Narcissa. 

“Tom, let’s go. You’re, er, father awaits,” Lupin said, sticking his arm out. 

They vanished with a loud pop.

“Well, let’s get ourselves home,” Sirius said. “Dobby?”

Dobby appeared out of nowhere and took the trunks, then popped them all back to Grimmauld Place. Narcissa fussed over Harry for a few minutes before Harry managed to escape to Park Quad. Draco went to his room and simply sat on his bed, staring into space. 

“Hey,” Sirius greeted, standing on the door. “Mind if I come in.”

“Sure,” Draco said, motioning for Sirius to enter. 

“So…uh…”

“I’ve seen people die before, Sirius.”

“But you’ve never had a friend die.”

“Yeah, I have. Kind of. Crabbe died the night I time traveled. Died by his own cursed fire he set,” Draco quietly said. 

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

“I never really had a lot of time to digest his death. It seems rather unreal now,” Draco admitted. 

“Well, I lived through a lot and I lost friends. It does help to talk about it. Even if it’s just to remember the better times. I mean, I didn’t know her very well, but I’ll listen.”

Draco gazed over at his cousin. He was about to dismiss him completely, but saw something in those grey eyes that was almost pleading with him to share something happy, so Draco told the story of how he’d met Atlanta Siria Lupin nee Black in France during the summer and how she’d like his hair. 

* * *

The portkey dropped Draco, his mother, and Sirius in a field somewhere cold and wet. Sirius reasoned they were in Northern Scotland. It was a large field and very green with a bunch of trees off the side. It was peaceful, even with the strange looking house sitting near the tree-line. 

“This way,” Sirius said, motioning to the fairy lights that lit the way off towards the trees. 

They walked past the building, which didn’t seem to actually have a working door (odd) or windows and into the woods. They walked a little ways till they came to another clearing. This one opened up to reveal babbling brook that emptied into a small lake. The trees and rocks were covered in moss. It was utterly gorgeous and peaceful. 

“A perfect place to rest,” Narcissa murmured, before steering the two males towards the gathered people. There were no seats, nor was there a coffin. There was at the front of the group a rather strange looking tree, which Lupin stood next to, a little red around the eyes, but dry-eyed. 

Draco spotted Hermione and went to stand next to her. She instantly took his hand and squeezed. 

“Where’s Harry?” Draco asked.

“Over there with Tom,” Hermione whispered, indicating where Harry stood on the other side of the group with Tom, who looked miserable. 

Draco glanced at those gathered. Ginny Weasley and her mother were present, standing next to Luna and a man Draco assumed was Luna’s father. Neville was there with his grandmother. Dumbledore and Tonks stood together near the back of the group. Standing up front with Lupin were two people Draco didn’t know at all, but he could guess they were products of a Black-Hilderbatch union.

“Who are they?” Draco whispered to Hermione.

“Atlanta’s brother and sister from America,” Hermione answered as Lupin cleared his throat. 

“Thank you all for coming today,” Lupin began. “Atlanta left..she left…”

“She left instructions on how she wished for her funeral to proceed,” finished the man standing next to Lupin in a very strong American accent free of the Southern hints Atlanta’s had held. He put a hand on Lupin’s shoulder and squeezed. Lupin sucked in a lot of air and nodded at the man. “She didn’t wish to buried, but rather wished to be transfigured into something that would go on living.”

He motioned to the tree. 

The woman stepped up and smiled softly. Like her brother, her accent was strong, solid, but free of Southern. “It wasn’t easy, but we managed to carry it out. She requested to be planted here so she’d…”

Lupin flapped his hand and the woman nodded.

“So she’d be able to keep her father company during the full moon.”

The woman’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd for a moment, almost daring someone to act out at the news Lupin was a werewolf. It wasn’t actually news to most of those gathered and if it was, no one reacted. 

“My little sister always loved music,” the woman went on, now smiling softly. “Those who knew her knew she was always singing or humming. Even though she didn’t request it, we,” she motioned to the two men and herself, “felt that a song ought to be sung to close.” 

Lupin moved away from the guy and pulled a record player out from behind the doorless house (which made sense now that Draco knew it was where Lupin locked himself up during full moons). He put the pin on the record and set it down. 

An unfamiliar song began to play. However, it must not have been unknown to Lupin or Atlanta’s siblings, as they all looked a little misty eyed. 

_The song is ended, but the melody lingers on_

_You and the song are gone, but the melody lingers on_

_The night was splendid and the melody seemed to say_

_“Summer will pass away, take your happiness while you may”_

_There ‘neath the light of the moon_

_We sang a love song that ended too soon_

_The moon descended and I found with the break of dawn_

_You and the song had gone_

_But the melody lingers on_

Draco blinked away the tears as the song ended. 

“Thank you for taking the time to join us to say goodbye,” the woman said, flicking tears away from her eyes. “She was taken from us too soon after going through so much. I hope…I hope she’s happy wherever she is.”

The woman looked up at the tree and joined hands with her brother. He gave her a small smile and they both walked through the little crowd away from the tree. Lupin followed. Sirius quickly joined him, putting an arm over Lupin’s shoulder. 

Ginny and Luna left flowers at the base of the tree before leaving with their parents. Neville did the same, but spoke to Harry and Tom before leaving with his grandmother. Harry left Tom alone and joined Draco and Hermione. 

“Did you get a chance to speak with Atlanta’s brother and sister?” Hermione inquired.

“Yeah. They were at the flat before we came here. They’re actually really nice and were horrified with what Altair had wanted to use Atlanta for. Neither Cassie or Dre knew what had happened to Atlanta till after her mother died.”

“I noticed Altair wasn’t here,” Hermione remarked.

“He’s been rather keen on trying to get Atlanta away from Lupin,” Harry explained. “Evidently that was a big drama.”

“Altair wanted Atlanta to give to Voldemort?” Draco asked, shivering.

Harry nodded. “Cassie and Dre aren’t for what Voldemort stands for. For a members of a conservative pureblood family, they are rather open minded.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Hermione said, wringing her hands together in front of her. “Here comes Tom.”

Tom joined them and sighed deeply. 

“Let us depart.”

The four of them walked into the clearing, where Sirius and Narcissa waited with Lupin. Sirius and Lupin were both holding the portkeys. Harry and Tom bid one another goodbye and broke apart. Tom and Lupin vanished first, followed by Hermione, Draco, Harry, Narcissa, and Sirius. 

“Thank you for allowing me to portkey with you,” Hermione said to Narcissa and Sirius as she picked herself up off the floor. She’d forgotten to move her feet during the trip. 

“I can take you home,” Sirius offered. 

“No, I’ll find my own way,” Hermione insisted. “My parents aren’t far from here. They’re meeting me at a cafe.”

“I can walk you there. Then I’ll take Harry to his Aunt and Uncle’s house.”

Hermione was about to insist she was fine, but caught sight of Harry’s face and nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”

Everyone said their goodbyes. Narcissa hugged Harry and said she’d see him in two weeks. Hermione hugged Harry as well. Sirius steered both out the front door. Draco watched them walk off down the street and vanish around the corner. 

“Draco?”

“Yes?”

“How are you?”

Draco turned around to face his mother. 

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “She’s been in my life since I was three. I cannot believe she’s really gone. Or a tree.”

Narcissa let out a sharp breath through her nose that might have been a laugh. 

“I can believe she’s a tree,” she muttered quietly, smoothing Draco’s hair back. 

“Yes, I can as well,” Draco admitted.

“It is a very Atlanta thing do to.”

Draco nodded. It was. It was also quite like her, all three of her, to want to be near Lupin. All three understood the woes of the full moon. 

Narcissa squeezed Draco’s shoulders and they stood in silence for about five minutes before Narcissa let go and began to discuss plans for Harry’s birthday in a few weeks. Draco took a deep breath and turned around to follow his mother into her study to help her with the finer details. Not something he usually would do, but he wanted to spend some time with his mother. 

“When were you planing to tell me you are a time traveller?” Narcissa inquired as if she was simply asking how OWLs went. 

Draco stared at her wide eyed and had no clue how to answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends year five. Year six started writing yesterday (24 May 2015). I've currently hit a huge road block, so I'm unsure when I'll beging posting, but hopefully sometimes next year. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! The reviews/kudos/bookmarks are highly appreciated! If you're looking for more random notes, or updates on my progress, check out my tumblr account: scotlandevander.tumblr.com


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